PARKER'S 


CRITICAL    AND    MISCELLANEOUS 


WRITINGS. 


THE 


Critical   and  Miscellaneous 


WRITINGS 


OF 


THEODORE     PARKER, 

.MIMSTKli  HI'    THK  TWENTY  KHillTIl  (( l\(;RK(;  ATK  iN  A  I,  SdCIKTV   IN    lulSM'llN. 


BOSTON. 
HORAOE    ]).    EULLER. 

14    l>kC),MHKI.I)    SlREE'J-, 


F^ntered  according  to  Act  i>{  Congress,  in  the   year  1843,  by 

1  H  E  O  D  O  R  E     PARKER, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District   of  Massachusetts. 


PREFACE 


The  following  Critical  and  Miscellaneous  articles 
have,  with  a  single  exception,  been  published  before. 
A  few  verbal  alterations  have  been  made,  here  and 
there,  and  in  Article  XL  some  few  lines  have  been 
omitted  from  the  original  publication,  and  some  par- 
agraphs have  been  added,  namely,  the  introductory 
paragraph  ending  on  page  281,  and  the  passage  be- 
ginning with  the  twenty-fourth  line  on  page  339,  and 
ending  with  the  last  line  on  page  340. 

West  Roxbuuy,  Dec.  28th,  1842. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAT 1 

II.  German  literature 26 

III.  The  life  of  st.  Bernard  of  clairvaux      ...  61 

IV.  Truth  against  the  world 119 

V.  Thoughts  on  labor 122 

VI.  A   discourse  of  the  transient  and  permanent  in 

CHRISTIANITY 152 

VII.  The  PHARISEES 190 

VIII.  On   THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE   LABORING    CLASS              .            .  214 

IX.  How   TO    MOVE    THE   AVORLD 245 

X.  Primitive  Christianity 247 

XL  Strauss's  life  of  jesus 275 

XII.  Thoughts  on  theology 344 


ESSAYS. 
I. 

A    LESSON    FOR    THE    DAY: 

OR 

THE  CHRISTIANITY  OF  CHRIST,  OF  THE  CHURCH,  AND  OF  SOCIETY. 

"  Hear  what  the  Spirit  saith  unto  the  Churches,  ....  I  know  thy  works,  that  thou  hxst 
a  name,  that  thou  livest,  and  art  dead."  —  Bible.* 

Every  man  has  at  times  in  his  mind  the  Ideal  of 
what  he  should  be,  but  is  not.  This  ideal  may  be  high 
and  complete,  or  it  may  be  quite  low  and  insufficient ; 
yet  in  all  men  that  really  seek  to  improve,  it  is  better 
than  the  actual  character.  Perhaps  no  one  is  satisfied 
with  himself,  so  that  he  never  wishes  to  be  wiser,  better, 
and  more  holy.  Man  never  falls  so  low,  that  he  can  see 
nothing  higher  than  himself.  This  ideal  man  which  we 
project,  as  it  were,  out  of  ourselves,  and  seek  to  make 
real ;  this  Wisdom,  Goodness,  and  Holiness,  which  we 
aim  to  transfer  from  our  thoughts  to  our  life,  has  an 
action,  more  or  less  powerful,  on  each  man,  rendering 
him  dissatisfied  with  present  attainments,  and  restless, 
unless  he  is  becomitisr  better.     With  some  men  it  takes 


*From  tlie  Dial  for  October,  1840. 
1 


J5  A  LESSON  FOR   THE   DAY. 

the  rose  out  of  the  cheek,  and  forces  them  to  wander  a 
long  pilgrimage  of  temptations,  before  they  reach  the 
delectable  mountains  of  Tranquillity,  and  find  "  Rest 
for  the  Soul,"  under  the  Tree  of  Life. 

Now  there  is  likewise  an  ideal  of  perfection  floating 
before  the  eyes  of  a  community  or  nation ;  and  that 
ideal,  which  hovers,  lofty  or  low,  above  the  heads  of  our 
nation,  is  the  Christian  Ideal,  "the  stature  of  the  per- 
fect man  in  Christ  Jesus."  Christianity  then  is  the 
ideal  our  nation  is  striving  to  realize  in  life  ;  the  sublime 
prophecy  we  are  laboring  to  fulfil.  Of  course,  some 
part  thereof  is  made  real  and  actual,  but  by  no  means 
the  whole  ;  for  if  it  were,  some  higher  ideal  must  imme- 
diately take  its  place.  Hence  there  exists  a  difference 
between  the  actual  state  in  which  our  countrymen  are, 
and  the  ideal  state  in  which  they  should  be;  just  as 
there  is  a  great  gulf  between  what  each  man  is,  and 
what  he  knows  he  ought  to  become.  But  there  is  at 
this  day  not  only  a  wide  difference  between  the  true 
Christian  ideal,  and  our  actual  state,  but  what  is  still 
worse,  there  is  a  great  dissimilarity  between  our  ideal, 
and  the  ideal  of  Christ.  The  Christianity  of  Christ 
is.  the  highest  and  most  perfect  ideal  ever  presented  to 
the  longing  eyes  of  man ;  but  the  Christianity  of  the 
Church,  which  is  the  ideal  held  up  to  our  eyes,  at  this 
day,  is  a  very  different  thing;  and  the  Christianity  of 
Society,  which  is  that  last  ideal  imperfectly  realized, 
has  but  the  slightest  affinity  with  Christ's  sublime 
archetype  of  man.  Let  us  look  a  little  more  narrowly 
into  the  matter. 

Many  years  ago,  at  a  time  whei>  all  nations  were  in' 
a  state  of  deep  moral  and  religious  degradation ;  when 
the  world  lay  exhausted  and  sick  with  long  warfare ;  at 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  3 

a  time  when  Religion  was  supported  by  each  civilized 
State;  but  when  everywhere  the  religious  form  was 
outgrown  and  worn-out,  though  the  State  yet  watched 
this  tattered  garment  with  the  most  jealous  care,  calling 
each  man  a  blasphemer,  who  complainedjpf  its  scanti- 
ness, or  pointed  out  its  rents  ;  at  a  time  when  no  wise 
man,  anywhere,  had  the  smallest  respect  for  the  Popu- 
lar Religion,  except  so  far  as  he  found  it  a  convenient 
instrument  to  keep  the  mob  in  subjection  to  their  lords; 
and  when  only  the  few^  had  any  regard  for  Religion,  into 
whose  generous  hearts  it  is  by  nature  so  deeply  sown, 
that  they  are  born  religious ;  at  such  a  time,  in  a  little 
corner  of  the  world,  of  a  people  once  pious  but  then 
corrupted  to  the  heart ;  of  a  nation  well  known  but  only 
to  be  justly  and  universally  hated  —  there  was  born  a 
man ;  a  right  true  man.  He  had  no  advantage  of  birth, 
for  he  was  descended  from  the  poorest  of  the  -people ; 
none  of  education,  for  he  was  brought  up  in  a  little 
village,  whose  inhabitants  were  wicked  to  a  proverb ; 
and  so  little  had  schools  and  colleges  to  do  for  him,  that 
his  townsmen  wondered  how  he  had  learned  to  read. 
He  had  no  advantage  of  aid  or  instruction  froni  the 
great  and  the  wise ;  but  grew  up  and  passed  his  life, 
mainly,  with  fishers,  and  others  of  like  occupation, — 
the  most  illiterate  of  men. 

This  was  a  true  man ;  such  as  had  never  been  seen 
before.  None  such  has  risen  since  his  time.  He  was 
so  true,  that  he  could  tolerate  nothing  false ;  so  pure 
and  holy,  that  he,  and  perhaps  he  alone  of  all  men,  was 
justified  in  calling  others  by  their  proper  name ;  even 
when  that  proper  name  was  Blind  Guide,  Fool,  Hypo- 
crite, Child  of  the  Devil.  He  found  men  forgetful  of 
God.  They  seemed  to  fancy  He  was  dead.  They 
lived  as  if  there  had  once  been  a  God,  who  had  grown 


4  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

old  and  deceased.  They  were  mistaken  also  as  to  the 
nature  of  Man.  They  saw  he  had  a  body ;  they  forgot 
he  is  a  Soul,  and  has  a  Soul's  Rights,  and  a  Soul's 
Duties.  Accordingly  they  believed  there  had  been 
Revelations,  in  the  days  of  their  fathers,  when  God 
was  alive  and  active.  They  knew  not  there  were 
Revelations  every  day  to  faithful  Souls ;  —  Revelations 
just  as  real,  just  as  direct,  just  as  true,  just  as  sublime, 
just  as  valuable,  as  those  of  old  time;  for  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  not  yet  been  exhausted,  nor  the  river  of 
God's  inspiration  been  drunk  dry  by  a  few  old  Hebrews, 
great  and  divine  souls  though  they  were. 

He  found  men  clinging  to  tradition,  as  orphan  girls 
cling  to  the  robe  of  their  mother  dead  and  buried,  hop- 
ing to  find  life  in  what  had  once  covered  the  living. 
Thus  men  stood  with  their  faces  nailed  to  the  past; 
their  eyes  fastened  to  the  ground.  They  dreamed  not 
the  sun  rose  each  morning  fresh  and  anew.  So  their 
teachers  looked  only  at  the  West,  seeking  the  light 
amid  dark  and  thundering  clouds,  and  mocking  at  such 
as,  turning  their  faces  to  the  East,  expounded  the  signs 
of  new  morning,  and  "  wished  for  the  day." 

This  true  man  saw  through  their  sad  state,  and  com- 
forting his  fellows  he  said,  Poor  brother  man,  you  are 
deceived.  God  is  still  alive.  His  Earth  is  under  your 
feet.  His  Heaven  is  over  your  head.  He  takes  care  of 
the  sparrows.  Justice,  and  Wisdom,  and  Mercy,  and 
Goodness,  and  Virtue,  and  Religion,  arc  not  superan- 
nuated and  ready  to  perish.  They  are  young  as  Hunger 
and  Thirst,  which  shall  be  as  fresh  in  the  last  man  as 
they  were  in  the  first.  God  has  never  withdrawn  from 
the  universe,  but  he  is  now  present  and  active  in  this 
spot,  as  ever  on  Sinai,  and  still  guides  and  inspires  all 
who  will  open  their  hearts  to  admit  him  there.     Men 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  O 

are  still  men ;  bom  pure  as  Adam  and  into  no  less  a  y 
sphere.  All  that  Abraham,  Moses,  or  Isaiah  possessed 
is  open  unto  you,  just  as  it  was  to  them.  If  you  will, 
your  inspirations  may  be  glorious  as  theirs,  and  your 
life  as  divine.  Yea,  far  more ;  for  the  „Jeast  in  the 
New  Kingdom  is  greater  than  the  greatest  in  the  Old. 
Trouble  not  yourselves  then  with  the  fringes  and  tassels 
of  threadbare  tradition,  but  be  a  man  on  your  own 
account. 

Poor  sinful  Brother,  said  he  to  fallen  man,  you  have 
become  a  fool,  an  hypocrite,  deceiving  and  deceived. 
You  live  as  if  there  were  no  God;  no  soul;  as  if  you 
were  but  a  beast.  You  have  made  yourself  as  a  ghost, 
a  shadow,  not  a  man.  Rise  up  and  be  a  man,  thou 
child  of  God.  Cast  off  these  cumbrous  things  of  old.  / 
Let  Conscience  be  your  Lawgiver;  Reason  your  Oracle; 
Nature  your  Temple;  Holiness  your  High-priest;  and  a 
Divine  Life  your  Offering.  Be  your  own  Prophet ;  for 
the.  Law  and  the  old  Prophets  were  the  best  things  men 
had  before  John ;  but  now  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is 
preached;  leave  them,  for  their  work  is  done.  Live  no 
longer  such  a  mean  life  as  now.  If  you  would  be 
saved  —  love  God  with  your  whole  heart,  and  man  as 
yourself.  Look  not  back  for  better  days,  and  say  Abra- 
ham is  our  father ;  but  live  now,  and  be  not  Abrahams, 
but  something  better.  Look  not  forward  to  the  time 
when  your  fancied  deliverer  shall  come;  but  use  the  mo- 
ment now  in  your  hands.  Wait  not  for  the  Kingdom 
of  God;  but  make  it  within  you  by  a  Divine  Life. 
What  if  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  sit  in  the  seat  of 
authority?  Begin  your  kingdom  of  the  divine  life, 
and  fast  as  you  build  it,  difficulties  will  disappear; 
false  men  will  perish,  and  the  true  rise  up.  Set  not  for 
your  standard  the  limit  of  old  times,  — for  here  is  one 

1* 


6  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

greater  than  Jonah  or  Solomon,  —  but  be  perfect  as 
God.  Call  no  man  master.  Call  none  father,  save  the 
Infinite  Spirit.  Be  one  with  him;  think  his  thoughts; 
feel  his  feelings,  and  live  his  will.  Fear  not;  "I  have 
overcome  the  world,  and  you  shall  do  yet  greater  things; 
I  and  the  Father  will  dwell  with  you  for  ever.  Thus 
he  spoke  the  word  which  men  had  longed  to  hear 
spoken,  and  others  had  vainly  essayed  to  utter.  While 
the  great  and  gifted  asked  in  derision.  Art  thou  greater 
than  our  father  Jacob  ?  —  multitudes  of  the  poor  in 
spirit  heard  him ;  their  hearts  throbbed  with  the  mighty 
pulsations  of  his  heart.  They  were  swayed  to  and  fro 
by  his  words,  as  an  elm-branch  swings  in  the  summer 
wind.  They  said.  This  is  one  of  the  old  prophets, 
Moses,  iElias,  or  even  that  greater  prophet,  the  "desire 
of  all  nations."  They  shouted  with  one  voice,  He 
shall  be  our  King ;  for  human  nature  is  always  loyal  at 
its  heart,  and  never  fails  of  allegiance,  when  it  really 
sees  a  real  hero  of  the  Soul,  in  whose  heroism  of  Holi- 
ness there  is  nothing  sham.  As  the  carnal  pay  a  shal- 
low worship  to  rich  men,  and  conquering  chiefs,  and 
other  heroes  of  the  Flesh,  so  do  men  of  the  spirit  revere 
a  faithful  Hero  of  the  Soul,  with  whatever  in  them  is 
deepest,  truest,  and  most  divine. 

Before  this  man  had  seen  five-and-thirty  summers,  he 
Avas  put  to  death  by  such  men  as  thought  old  things 
were  new  enough,  and  false  things  sufficiently  true,  and 
like  owls  and  bats  shriek  fearfully  when  morning  comes, 
because  their  day  is  the  night,  and  their  power,  like  the 
spectres  of  fable,  vanishes  as  the  cockcrowing  ushers 
the  morning  in.  Scarce  had  this  divine  youth  begun  to 
spread  forth  his  brightness  ;  men  had  seen  but  the  twi- 
light of  his  reason  and  inspiration;  the  full  noon  must 
have  come  at  a  later  period  of  life,  when  experience  and 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  7 

long  contemplation  had  matured  the  divine  gifts,  never 
before  nor  since  so  prodigally  bestowed,  nor  used  so 
faithfully.  But  his  doctrine  was  ripe,  though  he  was 
young.  The  truth  he  received  at  first  hand  from  God 
required  no  age  to  render*  it  mature.  So  he  perished. 
But,  as  the  oak,  the  woodman  fells  in  autamn  on  the 
mountain  side,  scatters  ripe  acorns  over  many  a  rood, 
some  falling  perchance  into  the  bosom  of  a  stream,  to 
be  cast  up  on  distant  fertile  shores,  so  his  words  sprang 
up  a  host  of  men  ;  living  men  like  himself,  only  feebler 
and  of  smaller  stature.  They  were  quickened  by  his 
words,  electrified  by  his  love,  and  enchanted  by  his 
divine  life.  He  who  has  never  seen  the  sun  can  learn 
nothing  of  it  from  all  our  words  ;  but  he  who  has  once 
looked  thereon  can  never  forget  its  burning  brilliance. 
Thus  these  men,  "who  had  been  with  Jesus,"  were  lit 
up  by  him.  His  spirit  passed  into  them,  as  the  sun 
into  the  air,  with  light  and  heat.  They  were  possessed 
and  overmastered  by  the  new  spirit  they  had  drunken 
in.  They  cared  only  for  truth  and  the  welfare  of  their 
brother  men.  Pleasure  and  ease,  the  endearments  of 
quiet  life  and  the  dalliance  of  home,  were  all  but  a 
bubble  to  them,  as  they  sought  the  priceless  pearls  of  a 
divine  life.  Their  heart's  best  blood  —  what  was  it  to 
these  men  ?  They  poured  it  joyfully  as  festal  wine  was 
spent  at  the  marriage  in  Cana  of  Galilee ;  for,  as  their 
teacher's  life  had  taught  them  to  live,,  so  had  his  death 
taught  them  to  die  to  the  body,  that  the  soul  might  live 
greater  and  more.  In  their  hearts  burned  a  living  con- 
sciousness of  God ;  a  living  love  of  man.  Thus  they 
became  rare  men,  such  as  the  world  but  seldom  sees. 
Some  of  them  had  all  of  woman's  tenderness,  and 
more  than  man's  will  and  strength  of  endurance,  which 
earth  and  hell  cannot  force  from  the  right  path.     Thus 


y  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

they  were  fitted  for  all  work.  So  the  Damascus  steel, 
we  are  told,  has  a  temper  so  exquisite,  it  can  trim  a 
feather  and  cleave  iron  bars. 

Forth  to  the  world  are  sent  these  willing  seedsmen  of 
God  ;  bearing  in  their  bosom  the  Christianity  of  Christ, 
desiring  to  scatter  this  precious  seed  in  every  land  of  the 
wide  world.  The  Priest,  the  Philosopher,  the  Poet,  and 
the  King,  —  all  who  had  love  for  the  past,  or  an  iqter- 
est  in  present  delusions, — join  forces  to  cast  down  and 
tread  into  dust  these  Jewish  fishermen  and  tent-makers. 
They  fettei;  the  limbs ;  they  murder  the  body ;  but  the 
word  of  God  is  not  bound,  and  the  soul  goes  free.  The 
seed,  sown  broadcast  with  faith  and  prayers,  springs  up 
and  grows  night  and  day,  while  men  wake  and  while 
they  sleep.  Well  it  might,  beneath  the  hot  sun  of  per- 
secution, and  moistened  by  the  dew  that  martyrs  shed. 
The  mailed  Roman,  hard  as  iron  from  his  hundred 
battles,  saw  the  heroism  of  Christian  flesh,  and  begin- 
ning to  worship  that,  saw  with  changed  heart,  the  hero- 
ism of  the  Christian  soul ;  the  spear  dropped  from  his 
hand,  and  the  man,  new-born,  prayed  greater  and 
stronger  than  before.  Hardhearted  Roman  men,  and 
barbarians  from  the  fabulous  Hydaspis,  stood  round  in 
the  Forum,  while  some  Christian  was  burned  with 
many  tortures  for  his  faith.  They  saw  his  gentle  meek- 
ness, far  stronger  than  the  insatiate  steel  or  flame,  that 
never  says  enough.  They  whispered  to  one  another  — 
those  hardhearted  men  —  in  the  rude  speech  of  com- 
mon life,  more  persuasive  than  eloquence.  That  young 
man  has  a  dependent  and  feeble  father,  a  wife,  and  a 
little  babe,  newly  born,  but  a  day  old.  He  leaves  them 
all  to  uncertain  trouble,  worse,  perhaps,  than  his  own ; 
yet  neither  the  love  of  young  and  blissful  life,, nor  the 
care  of  parent,  and   wife,   and   child,  can   make   him 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  9 

swerve  an  inch  from  the  truth.  Is  there  not  God  in 
this  ?  And  so  when  the  winds  scattered  wide  the  elo- 
quent ashes  of  the  uncomplaining  victim  to  regal  or 
priestly  pride,  the  symbolical  dust,  which  Moses  cast 
towards  Heaven,  was  less  prolific  and  less  powerful 
than  his.  ^ 

So  the  world  went  for  two  ages.  But  in  less  than 
three  centuries  the  faith  of  that  lowly  youth,  and  so  un- 
timely slain,  proclaimed  by  the  fearless  voice  of  those 
trusting  apostles,  written  in  the  blood  of  their  hearts, 
and  illuminated  by  the  divine  life  they  lived  —  this  faith 
goes  from  its  low  beginning  on  the  Galilean  lake, 
through  Jerusalem,  Ephesus,  Antioch,  Corinth,  and 
Alexandria;  ascends  the  throne  of  the  Caesars,  and 
great  men,  and  temples,  and  towers,  and  rich  cities,  and 
broad  kingdoms  lie  at  its  feet.  What  wrought  this 
wonderous  change  so  suddenly  ;  in  the  midst  of  such 
deadly  peril ;  against  such  fearful  odds  ?  We  are  some- 
times told  it  was  because  that  divine  youth  had  an 
unusual  entrance  into  life ;  because  he  cured  a  few  sick 
men,  or  fed  many  hungry  men,  by  unwonted  means. 
Believe  it  you  who  may ;  it  matters  not.  Was  it  not 
rather  because  his  doctrine  was  felt  to  be  true,  real, 
divine,  satisfying  to  the  soul ;  proclaimed  by  real  men, 
true  men,  who  felt  what  they  said,  and  lived  what  they 
felt?  Man  was  told  there  was  a  God  still  alive,  and 
that  God  a  Father;  that  man  had  lost  none  of  that 
high  nature  which  shone  in  Moses,  Solomon,  or  Isaiah, 
or  Theseus,  or  Solon,  but  was  still  capable  of  Virtue, 
Thought,  Religion,  to  a  degree,  those  sages  not  only 
never  realized,  but  never  dreamed  of.  He  was  told 
there  were  Laws  for  his  nature,  —  laws  to  be  kept: 
Duties  for  his  nature,  i—  duties  to  be  done :  Rights  for 
his   nature,  —  rights   to   be    enjoyed  :    Hopes    for   his 


10  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

nature,  —  hopes*  to  be  realized,  and  more  than  realized, 
as  man  goes  forward  to  his  destiny,  with  perpetual  in- 
crease of  stature.  It  needs  no -miracle,  but  a  man,  to 
spread  such  doctrines.  You  shall  as  soon  stay  Niagara 
with  a  straw;  or  hold  in  the  swelling  surges  of  an 
Atlantic  storm,  with  the  "spider's  most  attenuated 
thread,"  as  prevent  the  progress  of  God's  truth,  with  all 
the  Kings,  Poets,  Priests,  and  Philosophers,  the  world 
has  ever  seen ;  and  for  this  plain  reason,  that  Truth  and 
God  are  on  the  same  side.  Well  said  the  ancient, 
"  Above  all  things  Truth  beareth  away  the  victory." 

Such  was  the  nature,  such  the  origin  of  the  Chris- 
tianity OF  Christ;  the  true  ideal  of  .a  divine  life  ;  such 
its  history  for  three  hundred  years.  It  is  true  that,  soon 
as  it  was  organized  into  a  church,  there  were  divisions 
therein,  and  fierce  controversies,  Paul  withstanding 
fickle  Peter  to  the  face.  It  is  true,  hirelings  came  from 
time  to  time  to  live  upon  the  flock ;  indolent  m6n 
wished  to  place  their  arm-chair  in  the  church  and  sleep 
undisturbed;  ambitious  "men  sought  whom  they  might 
devour.  But  in  spite  of  all  this,  there  was  still  a  real 
religious  life.  Christianity  was  something  men  felt, 
and  felt  at  home,  and  in  the  market-place,  by  fire-side 
and  field-side,  no  less  than  in  the  temple.  It  was  some- 
thing they  would  make  sacrifice  for,  leaving  father  and 
mother,  and  child  and  wife,  if  needful;  something  they 
would  die  for,  thanking  God  they  were  accounted 
worthy  of  so  great  an  end.  Still  more,  it  was  some- 
thing they  lived  every  day;  their  religion  and  their  life 
were  the  same. 

Such  was  Christianity  as  it  was  made  real  in  the  lives 
of  the  early  Christians.  But  now,  the  Christianity  of 
THE  Church,  by  which  is  meant  that  somewhat  which 
is  taught  in  our  religious  books,  and  preached  in  our 


A  LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  11 

pulpits,  is  a  thing  quite  different,  nay,  almost  opposite. 
It  often  fetters  and  enslaves  men.  It  tells  them  they 
must  assent  to  all  the  doctrines  and  stories  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  to  all  the  doctrines  and  stories  of  the 
New  Testament ;  that  they  must  ascribe  a  particular 
and  well-defined  character  to  God ;  must  believe  as 
they  are  bid  respecting  Christ  and  the  Bible,  or  they 
cannot  be  saved.  If  they  disbelieve,  then  is  the 
anathema  uttered  against  them ;  true,  the  anathema 
is  but  mouthfuls  of  spoken  wind  ;  yet  still  it  is  uttered 
as  though  it  could  crush  and  kill.  The  church  insists 
less  on  the  divine  life,  than  on  the  doctrines  a  man  be- 
lieves. It  measures  a  man's  religion  by  his  creed,  and 
calls  him  a  Heathen  or  a  Christian,  as  that  creed  is- 
short  or  long.  Now  in  the  Christianity  of  Christ,  there 
is  no  creed  essential,  unless  it  be  that  lofty  desire  to  ^ 
become  perfect  as  God ;  no  form  essential,  but  love  to 
man  and  love  to  God.  In  a  word,  a  divine  life  on  the 
earth  is  the  all  in  all  with  the  Christianity  of  Christ. 
This,  and  this  only,  was  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and 
eternal  life.  Now  the  church,  as  keeper  of  God's  King- 
dom, bids  you  assent  to  arbitrary  creeds  of  its  own 
device,  and  bow  the  knee  to  its  forms.  Thus  the 
Christianity  of  the  Church,  as  it  is  set  forth  at  this  day, 
insults  the  soul,  and  must  belittle  a  man  before  it  can 
bless  him.  The  church  is  too  small  for  the  soul ;  "  the 
bed  is  shorter  than  that  a  man  can  stretch  himself  on 
it,  and  the  covering  narrower  than  that  he  can  wrap 
himself  in  it."  Some  writer  tells  us  of  a  statue  of 
Olympian  Jove,  majestic  and  awful  in  its  exquisite 
beauty,  but  seated  under  a  roof  so  low,  and  within 
walls  so  narrow,  that  should  the  statue  rise  to  its  feet, 
and  spread  the  arms,  it  must  demolish  its  temple,  roof 
and  wall.     Thus  sits  Man  in  the  Christian  church  at 


12  A   LESSON   FOR  THE   DAY. 

this  day.  Let  him  think  in  what  image  he  is  made; 
let  him  feel  his  immortal  nature,  and  rising,  take  a 
single  step  towards  the  divine  life —  then  where  is  the 
church  ? 

The  range  of  subjects  the  church  deigns  to  treat  of  is 
quite  narrow;  its  doctrines  abstract;  and  thus  Chris- 
tianity is  made  a  letter  and  not  a  life ;  an  occasional 
affair  of  the  understanding,  not  the  daily  business  of  the 
heart.  The  ideal  now  held  up  to  the  public,  as  the 
highest  word  ever  spoken  to  man,  is  not  the  ideal  of 
Christ,  the  measure  of  a  perfect  man,  not  even  the 
ideal  of  the  Apostles  and  early  Christians.  Anointed 
teachers  confess  without  shame,  that  Goodness  is  better 
than  Christianity.  True  alas,  it  is  better  in  degree,  yes 
diflf'erent  in  kind  from  the  Christianity  of  the  church. 
Hence,  in  our  pulpits,  we  hear  but  little  of  the  great 
doctrines  of  Jesus ;  the  worth  of  the  soul ;  the  value  of 
the  present  moment;  the  brotherhood  of  all' men,  and 
their  equality  before  God ;  the  necessity  of  obeying  that 
perfect  law  God  has  written  on  the  soul;  the  conse- 
quences which  follow  necessarily  from  disobeying ; 
consequences  which  even  Omnipotence  cannot  remove; 
and  the  blessed  results  for  now  and  for  ever,  that  arise 
from  obedience,  and  the  all  importance  of  a  divine  life ; 
the  power  of  the  soul  to  receive  the  Holy  Ghost;  the 
divine  might  of  a  regenerate  man  ;  the  presence  of  God 
and  Christ  noiv  in  faithful  hearts;  the  inspiration  of 
good  men  ;  the  Kingdom  of  God  on  the  Earth — these 
form  not  the  substance  of  the  church's  preaching.  Still 
less  are  they  applied  to  life,  and  the  duties  which  come 
of  them  shown  and  enforced.  The  church  is  quick  to 
discover  and  denounce  the  smallest  deviation  from  the 
belief  of  dark  ages,  and  to  condemn  vices  no  longer 
popular ;  it  is  conveniently  blind  to  the  great  fictions 


A  LESSON   FOR  THE   DAY.   '  13 

which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  Church  and  State  ;  sees 
not  the  rents,  daily  yawning  more  wide,  in  the  bowing 
walls  of  old  institutions;  and  never  dreams  of  those 
causes,  which,  like  the  drugs  of  the  Prophet  in  the 
fable,  are  rending  asunder  the  Idol  of  Brass  and  Clay, 
men  have  set  up  to  worship.  So  the  mole,  it  has  been 
said,  within  the  tithe  of  an  inch  its  vision  extends  over, 
is  keener  of  insight  than  the  lynx  or  the  eagle;  but  to 
all  beyond  that  narrow  range  is  stone  blind. 

Alas,  what  men  call  Christianity,  and  adore  as  the 
best  thing  they  see,  has  been  degraded  ;  so  that  if  men 
should  be  all  that  the  pulpit  commonly  demands  of 
them,  they  would  by  no  means  be  Christians.  To  such, 
a  pass  have  matters  reached,  that  if  Paul  should  come 
upon  the  Earth  now,  as  of  old,  it  is  quite  doubtful  that 
he  could  be  admitted  to  the  Christian  church;  for 
though  Felix  thought  much  knowledge  had  made  the 
Apostle  mad,  yet  Paul  ventured  no  opinion  on  points 
respecting  the  nature  of  God,  and  the  history  of  Christ, 
where  our  pulpits  utter  dogmatic  and  arbitrary  decis- 
ions, condemning  as  infidels  and  accursed  all  such  as 
disagree  therewith,  be  their  life  never  so  godly.  These 
things  are  notorious.  Still  more,  it  may  be  set  down  as 
quite  certain,  that  if  Jesus  could  return  from  the  other 
world,  and  bring  to  New  England  that  same  boldness 
of  inquiry,  which  he  brought  to  Judea ;  that  same  love 
of  living  truth,  and  scorn  of  dead  letters;  could  he 
speak  as  he  then  spoke,  and  live  again  as  he  lived  be- 
fore, he  also  would  be  called  an  infidel  by  the  church ; 
be  abused  in  our  newspapers,  for  such  is  our  wont,  and 
only  not  stoned  in  the  streets,  because  that  is  not  our 
way  of  treating  such  men  as  tell  us  the  truth. 

Such  is  the  Christianity  of  the  church  in  our  times. 
It  does  not  look  fonvard  but  backivard.     It  does  not  ask. 

2 


14  A    LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

truth  at  first  liand  from  God ;  seeks  not  to  lead  men 
directly  to  Him,  through  the  divine  life,  but  only  to 
make  them  walk  in  the  old  paths  trodden  by  some 
good  pious  Jews,  who,  were  they  to  come  back  to 
earth,  could  as  little  understand  our  circumstances  as 
we  theirs.  The  church  expresses  more  concern  that 
men  should  walk  in  these  peculiar  paths,  than  that  they 
should  reach  the  goal.  Thus  the  means  are  made  the 
end.  It  enslaves  men  to  the  Bible  ;  makes  it  the  soul's 
master,  not  its  servant;  forgetting  that  the  Bible,  like 
the  Sabbath,  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Bible. 
It  makes  man  the  less  and  the  Bible  the  greater.  The 
Saviour  said,  Search  the  Scriptures  ;  the  Apostle  recom- 
mended them  as  profitable  reading;  the  church  says, 
Believe  the  Scriptures,  if  not  with  the  consent  of 
Reason  and  Conscience,  why,  without  that  consent  or 
against  it.  It  rejects  all  attempts  to  humanize  the 
Bible,  and  separate  its  fictions  from  its  facts ;  and 
would  fain  wash  its  hands  in  the  heart's  blood  of  those 
who  strip  the  robe  of  human  art,  ignorance,  or  folly, 
from  the  celestial  form  of  divine  truth.  It  trusts  the 
imperfect  Scripture  of  the  Word,  more  than  the  Word 
itself,  writ  by  God's  finger  on  the  living  heart.  "  Where 
the  ilpirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty,"  says  the 
Apostle.  But  where  the  spirit  of  the  church  is,  there 
is  slavery.  It  would  make  all  men  think  the  same 
thoughts ;  feel  the  same  feelings ;  worship  by  the  same 
form. 

The  church  itself  worships  not  God,  who  is  all  in  all, 
but  Jesus,  a  man  born  of  woman.  Grave  teachers,  in 
defiance  of  iiis  injunction,  bid  us  pray  to  Christ.  It 
supposes  the  Soul  of  all  our  souls  cannot  hear,  or  will 
not  acccjit  a  prayer,  unless  offered  formally,  in  the 
church's  phrase,  forgetting  that  we  also  arc  men,  and 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  15 

God  takes  care  of  oxen  and  sparrows,  and  hears  the 
young  ravens  when  they  cry,  though  they  pray  not  in 
any  form  or  phrase.  Still,  called  by  whatever  name, 
called  by  an  idol's  name,  the  true  God  hears  the  living 
prayer.  And  yet  perhaps  the  best  feature  of  Chris- 
tianity, as  it  is  now  preached,  is  its  idolatrous  worship 
of  Christ.  Jesus  was  the  brother  of  all.  He  had  more 
in  common  with  all  men,  than  they  have  with  one 
another.  But  he,  the  brother  of  all,  has  been  made  to 
appear  as  the  master  of  all ;  to  speak  with  an  authority 
greater  than  that  of  Reason,  Conscience,  and  Faith;  — 
an  office  his  sublime  and  Godlike  spirit  would  revolt 
at.  But  yet,  since  he  lived  divine  on  the  earth,  and 
was  a  hero  of  the  soul,  and  the  noblest  and  largest  hero 
the  world  has  ever  seen,  perhaps  the  idolatry  that  is 
paid  him  is  the  nearest  approach  to  true  worship,  which 
the  mass  of  men  can  readily  make  in  these  days.  Rev- 
erence for  heroes  has  its  place  in  history ;  and  though 
worship  of  the  greatest  soul  ever  swathed  in  the  flesh, 
however  much  he  is  idealized  and  represented  as  inca- 
pable of  sin,  is  without  measure  below  the  worship  of 
the  ineffable  God ;  still  it  is  the  purest  and  best  of  our 
many  idolatries  in  the  nineteenth  century.  Practically 
speaking,  its  worst  feature  is,  that  it  mars  and  destroys 
the  highest  ideal  of  man,  and  makes  us  beings  of  very 
small  discourse,  that  look  only  backward. 

The  influence  of  real  Christianity  is  to  disenthrall  the 
man ;  to  restore  him  to  his  nature,  until  he  obeys  Con- 
science, Reason,  and  Religion,  and  is  made  free  by  that 
obedienpe.  It  gives  him  the  largest  liberty  of  the  Sons 
of  God,  so  that  as  faith  in  truth  becomes  deeper,  the 
man  is  greater  and  more  divine.  But  now  those  pious 
souls  who  accept  the  church's  Christianity  are,  in  the 
main,   crushed   and   degraded   by   their   faith.      They 


16  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

dwindle  daily  in  the  church's  keeping.  Their  worship 
is  not  Faith,  but  Fear;  and  Bondage  is  written  legibly 
on  their  forehead,  like  the  mark  set  upon  Cain.  They 
resemble  the  dwarfed  creed  they  accept.  Their  mind 
is  incrusted  with  unintelligible  dogmas.  They  fear  to 
love  man,  lest  they  offend  God.  Artificial  in  their 
anxiety,  and  morbid  in  their  self-examination,  their  life 
is  sickly  and  wretched.  Conscience  cannot  speak  its 
mother  tongue  to  them ;  Reason  does  not  utter  its 
oracles ;  nor  Love  cast  out  fear.  Alas,  the  church 
speaks  not  to  the  hearty  and  the  strong ;  and  the  little 
and  the  weak,  who  accept  its  doctrines,  become  weaker 
and  less  thereby.  Thus  woman's  holier  heart  is  often 
abased  and  defiled,  and  the  deep-thoughted  and  true  of 
soul  forsake  the  church,  as  righteous  Lot,  guided  by  an 
angel,  fled  out  of  Sodom.  There  will  always  be 
wicked  men  who  scorn  a  pure  church,  and  perhaps 
great  men  too  high  to  need  its  instructions.  But  what 
shall  we  say  when  the  church,  as  it  is,  impoverishes 
those  it  was  designed  to  enrich,  and  debilitates  so  often 
the  trusting  souls  that  seek  shelter  in  its  arms  ? 

Alas  for  us,  we  see  the  Christianity  of  the  Church  is 
a  very  poor  thing  ;  a  very  little  better  than  heathenism. 
It  takes  God  out  of  the  world  of  nature  and  of  man, 
and  hides  him  in  the  church.  Nay,  it  docs  worse ;  it 
limits  God,  who  possesseth  heaven  and  earth,  and  is  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  restricting  his  influence  and 
inspiration  to  a  little  corner  of  the  world,  and  a  few 
centuries  of  history,  dark  and  uncertain.  Even  in  this 
narrow  range,  it  makes  a  deity  like  itself,  and  gives  us 
not  God,  but  Jehovah.  It  takes  the  living  Christ  out 
of  the  heart,  and  transfigures  him  in  the  clouds,  till  he 
becomes  an  anomalous  being,  not  God,  and  not  man  ; 
but  a  creature,  whose  holiness  is  not  the  divine  image. 


A    LESSOX    FOR    THE    DAY.  17 

he  has  sculptured  for  himself  out  of  the  rock  of  life, 
but  something  placed  over  him,  entirely  by  God's  hand, 
and  without  his  own  effort.  It  has  taken  away  our 
Lord,  and  left  us  a  being  whom  we  know  not ;  severed 
from  us  by  his  prodigious  birth,  and  his  alleged  relation 
to  God,  such  as  none  can  share.  What  have  we  in 
common  with  such  an  one,  raised  above  all  chance  of 
error,  all  possibility  of  sin,  and  still  more  surrounded  by 
God  at  each  moment,  as  no  other  man  has  been  ?  It 
has  transferred  him  to  the  clouds.  It  makes  Chris- 
tianity a  Belief,  not  a  Life.  It  takes  Religion  out  of 
the  world,  and  shuts  it  up  in  old  books,  whence,  from 
time  to  time,  on  Sabbaths,  and  Fast-days,  and  Feast- 
days  —  it  seeks  to  evoke  the  divine  spirit,  as  the  witch 
of  Endor  is  fabled  to  have  called  up  Samuel  from  the 
dead.  It  tells  you,  with  grave  countenance,  to  believe 
every  word  spoken  by  the  Apostles,  —  weak,  Jewish, 
fallible,  prejudiced,  mistaken  as  they  sometimes  were^ — 
for  this  reason,  because  forsooth  Peter's  shadow,  and 
Paul's  pocket  handkerchief  cured  the  lame  and  the 
blind.  It  never  tells  you.  Be  faithful  to  the  spirit  God 
has  given ;  open  your  soul  and  you  also  shall  be  in- 
spired, beyond  Peter  and  Paul  it  may  be,  for  great 
though  they  were,  they  saw  not  all  things  and  have  not 
absorbed  the  Godhead.  No  doubt  the  Christian  church 
has  been  the  ark  of  the  world;  no  doubt  some  indi- 
vidual churches  are  now  free  from  these  disgraces ;  still 
the  picture  is  true  as  a  whole. 

Alas,  it  is  true  that  men  are  profited  by  such  pitiful 
teachings ;  for  the  church  is  above  the  community,  and 
the  Christianity  of  Society  is  far  below  that  of  the 
church  ;  even  in  that  deep  there  is  a  lower  deep.  This 
is  a  hard  saying,  no  doubt.  But  let  us  look  the  facts  in 
the  face,  and  see  how  matters  are.     It  is  written  in  travel- 

2* 


18  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

lers'  journals  and  taught  in  our  school-books,  that  the 
Americans  are  Christians !  It  is  said  in  courts  of  jus- 
tice that  Christianity  is  part  of  the  law  of' the  land; 
with  the  innocent  meaning,  it  is  likely,  that  the  law  of 
the  land  is  part  of  Christianity.  But  what  proofs  have 
we  that  the  men  of  New  England  are  Christians  ?  We 
point  to  our  churches.  Lovely  emblems  they  are  of  de- 
votion. In  city  and  village,  by  roadside  and  stream- 
side,  they  point  meekly  their  taper  finger  to  the  sky, 
the  enchanting  symbol  of  Christian  aspiration  and  a 
Christian  life.  Through  all  our  land  of  hill  and  valley, 
of  springs  and  brooks,  they  stand,  and  most  beautifully 
do  they  make  it,  catching  the  earliest  beam  of  day,  and 
burning  in  the  last  flickering  rays  of  the  long  lingering 
sun.  Sweet  too  is  the  breath  of  the  Sabbath  bell ; 
dear  to  the  hearts  of  New  England ;  it  floats  undulat- 
ing on  the  tranquil  air,  like  a  mother's  brooding  note, 
calling  her  children  to  their  home.  We  mention  our 
Bibles  and  religious  books,  found  in  the  houses  of  the 
rich,  and  read  with  blissful  welcome  beside  the  hearth- 
stone of  the  poor.  We  point  to  our  learned  clergy,  the 
appointed  defenders  of  the  letter  of  Christianity.  All 
this  proves  nothing.  The  Apostles  could  point  to  no 
long  series  of  learned  scribes ;  only  to  a  few  rough 
.fishermen  in  sheep-skins  and  goat-skins.  They  had  no 
.multitude  of  Bibles  and  religious  books,  for  they  cast 
behind  them  the  Old  Testament,  as  a  law  of  sin  and 
death,  and  the  New  Testament  was  not  then  written, 
save  in  the  heart ;  they  had  no  piles  of  marble  and 
mortar ;  no  silvery  and  sweet-noted  bell  to  rouse  for 
them  the  slumbering  morn.  Yet  were  those  men 
Christians.  They  did  not  gather  of  a  Lord's  day,  in 
costly  temples,  to  keep  an  old  form,  or  kill  the  long-de- 
laying hours;  —  but  in  small  upper  rooms;  on  the  sea- 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  19 

shore ;  beneath  a  tree ;  in  caves  of  the  desert  moun- 
tains ;  or  the  tombs  of  dead  men  in  cities,  met  those 
noble  hearts,  to  worship  God  at  first  hand,  and  exhort 
one  another  to  a  manly  life,^  and  a  martyr's  death,  if 
need  were.  •*• 

We  see  indeed  an  advan(?e  in  our  people  above  all 
ancient  time ;  we  fondly  say,  the  mantle  of  a  more 
liberal  culture  is  thrown  over  us  all.  The  improved 
state  of  society  brings  many  a  blessing  in  its  train. 
The  arts  ditFuse  comfort ;  industry  and  foresight  atford 
us,  in  general,  a  competence;  schools  and  the  printing- 
press,  which  works  indefatigable  with  its  iron  hand, 
day  and  night,  spread  knowledge  wide.  Our  hospitals, 
our  asylums,  and  churches  for  the  poor,  give  some  signs 
of  a  Christian  spirit.  Crimes  against  man's  person  are 
less  frequent  than  of  old,  and  the  legal  punishments 
less  frightful  and  severe.  The  rich  do  not  ride  rough- 
shodden  over  the  poor.  These  things  prove  that  the 
age  has  advanced  somewhat.  They  do  not  prove  that 
the  spirit  of  Religion,  of  Christianity,  of  Love,  the 
spirit  of  Christ,  of  God,  are  present  among  us  and 
active ;  for  enlightened  prudence,  the  most  selfish  of 
selfishness  would  lead  to  the  same  results;  and  who 
has  the  hardihood  to  look  facts  in  the  face,  and  call  our 
society  spiritual  and  Christian?  The  social  spirit  of 
Christianity  demands  that  the  strong  assist  the  weak. 

We  appeal  as  proofs  of  our  Christianity  to  our 
attempts  at  improving  ruder  tribes,  to  our  Bibles  and 
Missionaries,  sent  with  much  self-denial  and  sacrifice 
to  savage  races.  Admitting  the  nobleness  of  the  de- 
sign, granting  the  Christian  spirit  is  shown  in  these 
enterprises,  —  for  this  at  least  must  be  allowed,  and  all 
heathen  antiquity  is  vainly  challenged  for  a  similar 
case,  —  there  is  still  a  most  melancholy  reverse  to  this 


■  20  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

flattering  picture.  Where  shall  we  find  a  savage  nation 
on  the  \vide  world  that  has,  on  the  whole,  been  blessed 
by  its  intercourse  with  Christians  ?  Where  one  that 
has  not,  most  manifestly,  been  polluted  and  cursed  by 
the  Christian  foot?  Let  this  question  be  asked  from 
Siberia  to  Patagonia,  from  the  ninth  century  to  the 
nineteenth ;  let  it  be  put  to  the  nations  we  defraud  of 
their  spices  and  their  furs,  leaving  the^n  in  return  our 
Religion  and  our  Sin ;  let  it  be  asked  of  the  red  man, 
whose  bones  we  have  broken  to  fragments,  and  trodden 
into  bloody  mire  on  the  very  spot  where  his  mother 
bore  him ;  let  it  be  asked  of  the  black  man,  torn  by  our 
cupidity  from  his  native  soil,  whose  sweat,  exacted  by 
Christian  stripes,  fattens  our  fields  of  cotton  and  corn, 
and  brims  the  wine-cup  of  national  wealth ;  whose 
chained  hands  are  held  vainly  up  as  his  spirit  strives  to 
God,  with  great,  overmastering  prayers  for  vengeance, 
and  seem  to  clutch  at  the  volleyed  thunders  of  just,  but 
terrible  retribution,  pendent  over  our  heads.  Let  it  be 
asked  of  all  these,  and  ,  who  dares  stay  to  hear  the 
reply,  and  learn  what  report  of  our  Christianity  goes  up 
to  God  ? 

We  need  not  compare  ourselves  with  our  fathers,  and 
say  we  are  more  truly  religious  than  they  were.  Shame 
on  us  if  we  are  not.  Shame  on  us  if  we  are  always  to 
be  babes  in  Religion,  and  whipped  reluctant  into  decent 
goodness  by  fear,  never  growing  up  to  spiritual  man- 
hood. Admitting  we  are  a  more  Christian  people  than 
our  fathers,  let  us  measure  ourselves  with  the  absolute 
standard.  What  is  Religion  amongst  us  ?  Is  it  the 
sentiment  of  the  Infinite  penetrating  us  with  such  depth 
of  power,  that  we  would,  if  need  were,  leave  father  and 
mother  and  child  and  wife,  to  dwell  in  friendless  soli- 
tudes, so  that  we  might  worship  God  in  peace  ?     O  no. 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  21 

we  were  very  fools  to  make  such  a  sacrifice,  when  called 
on  for  the  sake  of  such  a  Religion  as  that  commonly 
preached,  commonly  accepted  and  lived.  It  is  not 
worth  that  cost ;  so  mean  and  degraded  is  Religion 
among  us.  Religion  does  not  possess  us^s  the  sun 
possesses  the  violets,  giving  them  warmth,  and  fra- 
grance, and  color,  and  beauty.  It  does  not  lead  to  a 
divine  character.  One  would  fancy  the  banns  of  wed- 
lock were  forbidden  between  Christianity  and  Life,  also, 
as  we  are  significantly  told,  they  have  been  between 
Religion  and  Philosophy ;  so  that  the  feeling  and  the 
thought,  like  sterile  monks  and  nuns,  never  approach  to 
clasp  hands,  but  dwell  joyless,  each  in  a  several  cell. 
Religion  has  become  chiefly,  and  with  the  well-clad 
mass  of  men,  a  matter  of  convention,  and  they  write 
Christian  with  their  name  as  they  write  "  Mr.,"  because 
it  is  respectable ;  their  fathers  did  so  before  them. 
Thus  to  be  Christian  comes  to  nothing,  it  is  true,  but  it 
costs  nothing,  and  is  fairly  worth  what  it  costs. 

Religion  should  be  "  a  thousand-voiced  psalm,"  from 
the  heart  of  man  to  man's  God,  who  is  the  original  of 
Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  and  is  revealed  in  all 
that  is  good,  true,  and  beautiful.  But  Religion  is 
amongst  us,  in  general,  but  a  compliance  with  custom ; 
a  prudential  calculation;  a  matter  of  expediency; 
whereby  men  htjpe,  through  giving  up  a  few  dollars  in 
the  shape  of  pew-tax,  and  a  little  time  in  the  form  of 
church-going,  to  gain  the  treasures  of  heaven  and  eter- 
nal life.  Thus  Religion  has  become  Profit ;  not  rever- 
ence of  the  highest,  but  vulgar  hope  and  vulgar  fear ; 
a  working  fomvages,  to  be  estimated  by  the  rules  of 
loss  and  gain.  Men  love  Religion  as  the  mercenary 
worldling  his  well-endowed  wife;  not  for  herself,  but 
for  what  she  brings.    They  think  Religion  is  useful  to  the 


22  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY. 

old,  the  sick,  and  the  poor,  to  charm  them  with  a  com- 
fortable delusion  through  the  cloudy  land  of  this  earthly- 
life  ;  they  wish  themselves  to  keep  some  running  ac- 
count therewith,  against  the  day,  when  they  also  shall 
be  old,  and  sick,  and  poor.  Christianity  has  two  modes 
of  action,  direct  on  the  heart  and  life  of  a  man,  and  in- 
direct through  conventions,  institutions,  and  other  ma- 
chinery ;  and  in  our  time  the  last  is  almost  its  sole 
influence.  Hence  men  reckon  Christianity  as  valuable 
to  keep  men  in  order ;  it  would  have  been  good  policy 
for  a  shrewd  man  to  have  invented  it,  on  speculation, 
like  other  contrivances,  for  the  utility  of  the  thing.  In 
their  eyes  the  church,  especially  the  church  for  the  poor, 
is  necessary  as  the  court  house  or  jail ;  the  minister  is  a 
well-educated  Sabbath  day  constable ;  and  both  are 
parts  of  the  great  property  establishment  of  the  times. 
They  value  Religion,  not  because  it  is  true  and  divine, 
but  because  it  serves  a  purpose.  They  deem  it  needful 
as  the  poll-tax,  or  the  militia  system,  a  national  bank, 
or  a  sub-treasury.  They  value  it  among  other  com- 
modities ;  they  might  give  it  a  place  in  their  inventories 
of  stock ;  and  hope  of  Heaven,  or  faith  in  ^hrist,  might 
be  summed  up  in  the  same  column,  with  money  at  one 
per  cent. 

The  problem  of  men  is  not  first  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
that  is  a  perfect  life  on  the  earth,  lived  for  its  own  sake; 
but  first  all  other  things,  and  then,  if  the  Kingdom  of 
God  come  of  itself,  or  is  thrown  in  to  the  bargain,  like 
pack-thread  and  j)aper  with  a  parcel  of  goods,  why 
very  well;  they  are  glad  of  it.  It  keeps  "all  other 
things  "  from  soiling.  Does  Religion  take  hold  of  the 
heart  of  us?  Here  and  there,  among  rich  men  and 
poor  men,  especially  among  women,  you  shall  find  a 
few  really  religious ;  whose  life  is  a  prayer,  and  Chris- 


A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  23 

tiauity  their  daily  breath.  They  would  have  been  re- 
ligious had  they  been  cradled  among  cannibals,  and  be- 
fore the  flood.  They  are  divine  men ;  of  whom  the 
spirit  of  God  seerfts  to  take  early  hold,  and  Reason  and 
Religion  to  weave  up,  by  celestial  instingi,  the  warp 
and  woof  of  their  daily  life.  Judge  not  the  age  by  its 
religious  geniuses.  The  mass  of  men  care  little  for 
Christianity;  were  it  not  so,  the  sins  of  the  forum  and 
the  market-place,  committed  in  a  single  month,  would 
make  the  land  rock  to  its  centre.  Men  think  of  Re- 
ligion at  church,  on  the  Sabbath ;  they  make  sacrifices, 
often  great  sacrifices,  to  support  public  worship,  and 
attend  it  most  sedulously,  these  men  and  women.  But 
here  the  matter  ends.  Religion  does  not  come  into 
their  soul ;  does  not  show  itself  in  their  housekeeping 
and  tradins:.  It  does  not  shine  out  of  the  windows  of 
morning  and  evening,  and  speak  to  them  at  every  turn. 
How  many  young  men  in  the  thousand  say  thus  to 
themselves.  Of  this  will  I  make  sure,  a  Cljristian  char- 
acter and  divine  life,  all  other  things  be  as  God  sends? 
How  many  ever  set  their  hearts  on  any  moral  and  re- 
ligious object,  on  achieving  a  perfect  character,  for  ex- 
ample, with  a  fraction  of  the  interest  they  take  in  the 
next  election  ?  Nay,  woman  also  must  share  the  same 
condemnation.  Though  into  her  rich  heart  God  more 
generously  sows  the  divine  germs  of  Religion ;  though 
this  is  her  strength,  her  loveliness,  her  primal  excellence, 
yet  she  also  has  sold  her  birthright  for  tinsel  ornaments, 
and  the  admiration  of  deceitful  lips.  Men  think  of  Re- 
ligion when  they  are  sick,  old,  in  trouble,  or  about  to 
die,  forgetting  that  it  is  a  crown  of  life  at  all  times; 
man's  choicest  privilege ;  his  highest  possession ;  the 
chain  that  sweetly  links  him  to  Heaven.  If  good  for 
any  thing,  it  is  good  to  live  by.     It  is  a  small  thing  to 


24  A   LESSON   FOE   THE   DAY. 

die  religiously;  a  devil  could  do  that;  but  to  live  divine 
is  man's  work. 

Since  Religion  is  thus  regarded,  or  disregarded  by 
men,  we  find  that  talent  and  genius,  getting  insight  of 
this,  lloat  off'  to  the  market,  the  workshop,  the  senate, 
the  farmer's  field,  or  the  court  house,  and  bring  home 
with  honor  the  fleece  of  gold.  Meanwhile,  anointed 
dulness,  arrayed  in  canonicals,  his  lesson  duly  conned, 
presses,  semi-somnous,  the  consecrated  cushions  of  the 
pulpit,  and  pours  forth  weekly  his  impotent  drone,  to 
be  blest  with  bland  praises,  so  long  as  he  disturbs  not 
respectable  iniquity  slumbering  in  his  pew,  nor  touches 
an  actual  ^n  of  the  times,  nor  treads  an  inch  beyond 
the  beaten  path  of  the  church.  "Well  is  it  for  the  safety 
of  the  actual  church,  that  genius  and  talent  forsake  its 
rotten  walls,  to  build  up  elsewhere  the  church  of  the 
first-born,  and  pray  largely  and  like  men  —  Thy  king- 
dom come.  There  is  a  concealed  skepticism  amongst 
us,  all  the  rgore  deadly  because  concealed.  It  is  not  a 
denial  of  God,  —  though  this  it  is  whispered  to  our  ear 
is  not  rare, —  for  men  have  opened  their  eyes  too 
broadly  not  to  notice  the  fact  of  God,  evejywhere  ap- 
parent, without  and  within ;  still  less  is  it  disbelief  of 
the  Scriptures;  there  has  always  been  too  much  belief 
in  their  letter,  though  far  too  little  living  of  their  truths. 
But  there  is  a  doubt  of  man's  moral  and  religious 
nature;  a  doubt  if  righteousness  be  so  supcrexcellent. 
Wc  distrust  Goodness  and  Religion,  as  the  blind  doubt 
if  the  sun  be  so  fine  as  men  tell  of;  or  as  the  deaf 
might  jeer  at  the  ecstatic  rapture  of  a  musician.  Who 
among  men  trusts  Conscience  as  he  trusts  his  eye  or 
ear?  With  them  the  highest  in  man  is  self-interest. 
When  they  come  to  outside  goodness,  therefore,  they 
are  driven  by  fear  of  hell,  as  by  a  scorpion  whip;  or 


•     A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.  25 

bribed  by  the  distant  pleasures  of  Heaven.  Accord- 
ingly, if  they  embrace  Christianity,  they  make  Jesus, 
who  is  the  archetype  of  a  divine  life,  not  a  man  like  his 
brothers,  who  had  human  appetites  and  passions ;  was 
tempted  in  the  flesh ;  was  cold,  and  hungry-K  and  faint, 
and  tired,  and  sleepy,  and  dull  —  each  in  its  season  — 
and  who  needed  to  work  out  his  own  salvation,  as  we 
also  must  do.  But  they  make  him  an  unnatural  char- 
acter ;  passionless ;  amphibious  ;  not  man  and  not  God ; 
whose  holiness  was  poured  on  him  from  some  celestial 
urn,  and  so  was  in  no  sense  his  own  work,  and  who, 
therefore,  can  be  no  example  for  us,  goaded  as  we  are 
by  appetite,  and  bearing  the  ark  of  our  destiny  in  our 
own  hands.  It  is  not  the  essential  element  of  Chris- 
tianity, love  to  man  and  love  to  God,  men  commonly 
gather  from  the  New  Testament ;  but  some  perplexing 
dogma,  or  some  oriental  dream.  How  few  religious 
men  can  you  find,  whom  Christianity  takes  by  the 
hand,  and  leads  through  the  Saharas  and  Siberias  of 
the  world;  men  whose  lives  are  noble;  who  can  speak 
of  Christianity  as  of  their  trading,  and  marrying,  out 
of  their  own  experience,  because  they  have  lived  it  ? 
There  is  enough  cant  of  Religion,  creeds  written  on 
sanctimonious  faces,  as  signs  of  that  emptiness  of 
heart,  "which  passeth  show,"  but  how  little  real  Re- 
ligion, that  comes  home  to  men's  heart  and  life,  let  ex- 
perience decide. 

Yet,  if  he  would,  man  cannot  live  all  to  this  world. 
If  not  religious,  he  will  be  superstitious.  If  he  worship 
not  the- true  God,  he  will  have  his  idols.  The  web  of 
our  mortal  life,  with  its  warp  of  destiny  and  its  woof  of 
freewill,  is  most  strangely  woven  up,  by  the  flying 
shuttles  of  time,  which  rest  not,  wake  we  or  sleep  ;  but 
through  this  wondrous  tissue  of  the  perishing  there  runs 

3 


26  A   LESSON   FOR   THE   DAY.     * 

the  gold  thread  of  eternity,  and  like  the  net  Peter 
saw  in  his  vision,  full  of  strange  beasts  and  creeping 
things,  this  web  is  at  last  seen  to  be  caught  up  to 
Heaven  by  its  four  corners,  and  its  common  things 
become  no  longer  unclean.  We  cannot  always  be 
false  to  Religion.  It  is  the  deepest  want  of  man. 
Satisfy  all  others,  we  soon  learn,  that  we  cannot  live 
by  bread  only,  for  as  an  ancient  has  said,  "  It  is  not  the 
growing  of  fruits  that  nourisheth  man,  but  thy  Word, 
which  ])reserveth  them  that  put  their  trust  in  thee." 
Without  the  divine  life  we  are  portionless,  bereft  of 
strength ;  without  the  living  consciousness  of  God,  we 
are  orphans,  left  to  the  bleakness  of  the  world. 

But  our  paper  must  end.  The  Christianity  of  the 
Church  is  a  very  poor  thing ;  it  is  not  bread,  and  it  is 
not  drink.  The  Christianity  of  Society  is  still  worse; 
it  is  bitter  in  the  mouth  and  poison  in  the  blood.  Still 
men  are  hungering  and  thirsting,  though  not  always 
knowingly,  after  the  true  bread  of  life.  Why  shall  we 
perish  with  hunger  ?  In  our  Father's  house  is  enough 
and  to  spare.  The  Christianity  of  Christ  is  high  and 
noble  as  ever.  The  religion  of  Reason,  of  the  Soul, 
the  Word  of  God,  is  still  strong  and  flamelike,  as  when 
first  it  dwelt  in  Jesus,  the  chiefest  incarnation  of  God, 
and  now  the  pattern  man.  Age  has  not  dimmed  the 
lustre  of  this  light  that  lighteneth  all,  though  they  cover 
their  eyes  in  obstinate  perversity,  and  turn  away  their 
faces  from  this  great  sight.  Man  has  lost  none  of  his 
God-likeness.  He  is  still  the  child  of  God,  and  the 
Father  is  near  to  us  as  to  him  who  dwelt  in  his  bosom. 
Conscience  lias  not  left  us.  Faith  and  hope  still  abide; 
and  love  never  fails.  The  Comforter  is  with  us;  and 
though  the  man  Jesus  no  longer  blesses  the  earth,  the 
ideal  Christ,  formed  in  the  heart,  is  with  us  to  the  end 


A   LESSOX   FOR   THE   DAY.  27 

of  the  world.  Let  us  then  bnild  on  these.  Use  good 
words  when  we  can  find  them,  in  the  church,  or  out 
of  it.  Learn  to  pray,  to  pray  greatly  and  strong  ;  learn 
to  reverence  what  is  highest ;  above  all  learn  to  live ; 
to  make  Religion  daily  work,  and  Christianity  our 
common  life.  All  days  shall  then  be  the  Lord's  day  ; 
our  homes,  the  house  of  God,  and  our  labor,  the 
ritual  of  Religion.  Then  we  shall  not  glory  in  men, 
for  all  things  shall  be  ours ;  we  shall  not  be  impover- 
ished by  success,  but  enriched  by  affliction.  Our  ser- 
vice shall  be  worship,  not  idolatry.  The  burdens 
of  the  Bible  shall  not  overlay  and  crush  us  ;  its  wis- 
dom shall  make  us  strong,  and  its  piety  enchant  us. 
Paul  and  Jesus  shall  not  be  our  masters,  but  elder 
brothers,  who  open  the  pearly  gate  of  truth  and  cheer 
us  on,  leading  us  to  the  Tree  of  Life.  We  shall  find 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  and  enjoy  it  now,  not  wait- 
ing tin  death  ferries  us  over  to  the  other  world.  We 
shall  then  repose  beside  the  rock  of  ages,  smitten  by 
divine  hands,  and  drink  the  pure  water  of  life  as  it 
flows  from  the  Eternal,  to  make  earth  green  and 
glad.  We  shall  serve  no  longer  a  bond-slave  to  tradi- 
tion, in  the  leprous  host  of  sin,  but  become  free  men, 
by  the  law  and  spirit  of  life.  Thus  like  Paul  shall 
we  form  the  Christ  within  ;  and  like  Jesus,  serving 
and  knowing  God  directly,  with  no  mediator  interven- 
ing, become  one  with  him.  Is  not  this  worth  a  man's 
wish ;  worth  his  prayers ;  worth  his  work,  to  seek  the 
living  Christianity;  the  Christianity  of  Christ?  Not 
having  this,  we  seem  but  bubbles,  —  bubbles  on  an 
ocean,  shoreless  and  without  bottom  ;  bubbles  that 
sparkle  a  moment  in  the  sun  of  life,  then  burst  to  be  no 
more.  But  with  it  we  are  men,  immortal  souls,  heirs 
of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with  Christ. 


II. 

GERMAN   LITERATURE* 


Opinions  are  divided  respecting  German  literature. 
If  we  are  to  believe  what  is  currently  reported,  and 
generally  credited,  there  is,  somewhere  in  New  England, 
a  faction  of  discontented  men  and  maidens,  who  have 
conspired  to  love  every  thing  Teutonic,  from  Dutch 
skates  to  German  infidelity.  It  is  supposed,  at  least 
asserted,  that  these  misguided  persons  would  fain 
banish  all  other  literature  clean  out  of  space ;  or,  at  the 
very  least,  would  give  it  precedence  of  all  other  letters, 
ancient  or  modern.  Whatever  is  German,  they  admire  ; 
philosophy,  dramas,  theology,  novels,  old  ballads,  and 
modern  sonnets ;  histories,  and  dissertations,  and  ser- 
mons ;  but  above  all,  the  immoral  and  irreligious  writ- 
ings, which  it  is  supposed  the  Germans  arc  chiefly  en- 
gaged in  writing,  with  the  generous  intention  of  cor- 
rupting the  youth  of  the  world,  restoring  the  worship 
of  Priapus,  or  Pan,  or  the  Pope,  —  it  is  not  decided 
which  is  to  receive  the  honor  of  universal  homage, — 

*From  the  Dial  for  January,  1842. —  Specimens  of  Foreign 
Standard  Literature,  edited  by  Georgk  Ripley,  vol.  vii.,  viii.,  and 
ix.,  containing  German  Literature,  translated  from  the  German  of 
Wolfgang  jNIenzel,  by  C.  C.  Feltox  ;  in  three  volumes.  Boston : 
Ililliard,  Gray  and  Co.  1840. 


GERMAN    LITERATURE.  29 

and  thus  gradually  preparing  for  the  Kingdom  of  Mis- 
rule, and  the  dominion  of  Chaos  and  "  most  ancient 
Night."  It  is  often  charitably  taken  for  granted,  that 
the  lovers  of  German  works  on  Philosophy  and  Art 
amongst  us  are  moved  thereto,  either  by  a  disinterested 
love  of  whatever  is  German,  or  else,  which  is  the  more 
likely,  by  a  disinterested  love  of  evil,  and  the  instigation 
of  the  devil,  who,  it  is  gravely  said,  has  actually  inspired 
several  of  the  most  esteemed  writers  of  that  nation. 
This  German  epidemic,  we  are  told,  extends  very  wide. 
It  has  entered  the  boarding-schools  for  young  misses,  of 
either  sex,  and  committed  the  most  frightful  ravages 
therein.  We  have  been  apprised  that  it  has  sometimes 
seized  upon  a  College,  nay,  on  Universities,  and  both 
the  Faculty  and  the  Corporation  have  exhibited  symp- 
toms of  the  fatal  disease.     Colleges,  did  we  say  ? 

"  No  place  is  sacred,  not  the  Church  is  free." 

It  has  attacked  clergymen,  in  silk  and  in  lawn.     The 
Doctors  of  Divinity  fall  before  it.     It  is  thought,  that 

"  Fever  and  ague,  jaundice  and  catarrh, 
The  grim-looked  tyrant's  heavy  horse  of  Avar; 
And  apoplexies,  those  light  troops  of  death, 
That  use  small  ceremony  -vvith  our  breath," 

are  all  nothing  to  the  German  epidemic.  We  meet 
men  with  umbrellas  and  overshoes,  men  "  shawled  to 
the  teeth,"  and  suppose  they  are  prudent  persons,  who 
have  put  on  armor  against  this  subtle  foe.  Histories  of 
this  plague,  as  of  the  cholera,  have  been  written ;  the 
public  has  often  been  called  to  defend  itself  from  the 
enemy,  and  quarantine  regulations  cfi'e  put  in  force 
against  all  suspected  of  the  infection.  In  short,  the 
prudent  men  of  the  land,  men  wise  to  foresee,  and  curi- 

3* 


30  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

ous  to  prevent  evil,  have  not  failed  to  advise  the  public 
from  time  to  time  of  the  danger  that  is  imminent,  and 
to  recommend  certain  talismans,  as  effectual  safeguards. 
We  think  a  -copy  of  the  "  Westminster  Catechism,"  or 
the  "  Confessions  of  Faith  adopted  by  the  Council  of 
Trent,"  or  the  "  Athanasian  Creed,"  perhaps  if  hung 
about  the  neck,  and  worn  next  the  skin,  might  save 
little  children,  and  perhaps  girls  nearly  grown  up,  es- 
pecially, if  they  read  these  amulets  every  morning,  fast- 
ing. But  a  more  important  specific  has  occurred  to  us, 
which  we  have  never  known  to  fail,  and  it  has  been 
tried  in  a  great  many  cases,  in  both  hemispheres.  The 
remedy  is  simple ;  it  is  a  strong  infusion  of  Dulness. 
Continued  applications  of  this  excellent  nostrum  will 
save  any  person,  we  think,  from  all  but  very  slight 
attacks  of  this  epidemic.  Certainly,  it  will  secure  the 
patient  from  the  worst  form  of  the  disease,  —  the 
philosophical  frenzy,  which  it  is  said  prevails  in  col- 
leges, and  among  young  damsels,  but  which,  we  think, 
does  not  attack  the  pulpit.  The  other  forms  of  the 
malady  are  mainly  cutaneous,  and  easily  guarded 
against. 

It  has  often  been  matter  of  astonishment  to  us,  that 
the  guardians  of  the  public  welfare  did  not  discover 
German  literature  when  it  first  set  foot  in  America,  and 
thrust  it  back  into  the  ocean ;  and  we  can  only  account 
for  the  fact  of  its  extension  here,  from  the  greater 
activity  of  Evil  in  general.  "  Rank  weeds  do  grow 
apace."  So  this  evil  has  grown  up  in  the  absence  of 
our  guardians,  as  the  golden  calf  was  made,  while 
Moses  was  in  the  mount,  fasting.  While  the  young 
men  and  maidens  have  been  eating  the  German  lotus, 
the  guardians  of  the  public  weal  have  been  "  talking, 
or  pursuing,  or  journeying,  or  peradventure,  they  slept, 


GEKMAN    LITERATURE.  31 

and  must  needs  be  awaked."     However  this  may  be, 
they  are  now  awake,  and  in  full  cry. 

Now,  for  our  own  part,  we  have  never  yet  fallen  in 
with  any  of  these  dangerous  persons,  who  have  this 
exaggerated  admiration  of  whatever  is  Teutonic,  still 
less  this  desire  to  overthrow  Morality,  and  turn  Religion 
out  of  the  world.  This  fact  may  be  taken  as  presump- 
tive evidence  of  blindness  on  our  part,  if  men  will. 
We  sometimes,  indeed,  meet  with  men,  and  women 
also,  well  read  in  this  obnoxious  literature;  they  are 
mostly, —  yes,  without  a  single  exception,  as  we  remem- 
ber,—  unoffending  persons.  They  "  gang  their  ain 
gait,"  arid  leave  others  the  same  freedom.  They  have 
tastes  of  their  own ;  scholarly  habits ;  some  of  them 
are  possessed  of  talent,  and  no  contemptible  erudition, 
judging  by  the  New  England  standard.  They  honor 
what  they  find  good,  and  to  their  taste,  in  German 
literature  as  elsewhere.  Men  and  women,  some  of  them 
are,  who  do  not  think  all  intellectual  and  aesthetic  excel- 
lence is  contained  in  a  hundred  volumes  of  Greek  and 
Roman  authors,  profound  and  beautiful  as  they  are. 
They  study  German  Philosophy,  Theology,  Criticism, 
and  Literature  in  general,  as  they  would  the  similar 
works  of  any  nation,  for  the  good  they  contain.  This, 
we  think,  is  not  forbidden  by  the  Revised  Statutes,  or 
any  other  universal  standard  of  right  and  wrong.  Why 
should  not  a  man  study  even  Sanscrit  Philosophy,  if  he 
will,  and  profit  by  it,  in  peace,  if  he  can  ?  We  do  not 
say  there  are  no  enthusiatic  or  fanatical  admirers  of  this 
literature;  nor,  that  there  are  none,  who  "go  too  far"  in 
their  admiration,  —  which  means,  in  plain  English, 
further  than  their  critic,  — but  that  such  persons  are  by 
no  means  common;  so  that  there  seems,  really,  very 
small  cause  for  the  panic,  into  which  some  good  people 


32  »    GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

have  seen  fit  to  fall.  We  doubt  the  existence,  therefore, 
of  tills  reputed  faction  of  men  and  maidens,  who  design 
to  reinstate  Confusion  on  her  throne. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  told,  —  and  partly  be- 
lieve it,  —  that  there  is  a  party  of  cool-headed,  discreet, 
moderate,  sound,  and  very  respectable  persons,  who 
hate  German  literature.  Of  these  we  can  speak  from 
knowledge.  Most  men  have  heard  of  them,  for  they 
have  cried  out  like  Bluebeard  in  the  tale,  "till  all  shook 
again."  They  are  plenty  as  acorns  in  autumn,  and 
may  be  had  for  the  asking.  This  party  has,  to  speak 
gently,  a  strong  dislike  to  German  literature,  philosophy, 
and  theology.  Sometimes  this  dislike  is  founded  on  a 
knowledge  of  facts,  an  acquaintance  with  the  subject, 
in  which  case  no  one  will  find  fault ;  but  far  oftener  it 
rests  merely  on  prejudice,  —  on  the  most  utter  ignorance 
of  the  whole  matter.  Respecting  this  latter  class  of 
haters  without  knowledge,  we  have  a  few  words  to  say. 
We  have  somewhere  seen  it  written,  "  he  that  answereth 
a  matter  before  he  heareth  it,  it  is  a  folly  and  shame 
unto  him."  We  commend  it  to  the  attention  of  these 
judges.  They  criticize  German  literature  by  wholesale 
and  retail,  —  to  adopt  the  ingenious  distinction  of  Dr. 
Watts.  They  issue  their  writs,  and  have  the  shadow 
of  some  poor  German  brought  into  the  court  of  their 
greatness,  and  pass  sentence  with  the  most  speedy 
justice,  never  examining  the  evidence,  nor  asking  a 
question,  nor  permitting  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  to  say  a 
word  for  himself,  till  the  whole  matter  is  disposed  of. 
Before  this  honorable  bench,  Goethe,  and  Schleierma- 
cher,  and  Schiller,  and  Arndt,  and  Kant,  and  Leibnitz, 
Henry  Heine,  and  Jacob  Biihme,  Sehelling  of  universal 
renown,  and  Schefer  of  Muskau  in  Nieder-Lausitz,  and 
Hegel,  and  Strauss,  with   their  aids  and  abettors,  are 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  33 

brought  up  and  condemned  as  mystics,  infidels,  or  pan- 
theists ;  in  one  word,  as  Germans.  Thus  the  matter  is 
disposed  of  by  the  honorable  court.  Now  we  would 
not  protest  against  this  method  of  proceeding,  ancient 
as  it  is,  and  supported  by  precedents  from'ihe  time  of 
Jethro  to  General  Jackson.  Such  a  protest  would  be 
"  a  dangerous  innovation,"  no  doubt.  We  would  have 
no  exceptions  from  the  general  method  made  in  favor  of 
German  letters.  No  literature  was  ever  written  into 
more  than  temporary  notice,  and  certainly  none  was 
ever  written  down.  German  literature  amongst  us  en- 
counters just  the  same  treatment  the  classic  authors 
received  at  the  hands  of  the  middle  ages.  When  those 
old  sages  and  saints  began  to  start  out  of  the  corners, 
where  night  had  overtaken  them,  men  were  alarmed  at 
their  strange  faces  and  antique  beards,  and  mysterious 
words.  "  What,"  said  they,  as  they  gaped  on  one  an- 
other, in  the  parlor,  the  court,  the  camp,  or  the  church, 
with  terror  in  their  faces,  — "  What !  study  Greek  and 
Roman  letters!  Greek  and  Roman  philosophy?  shall 
we  men  of  the  texth  century,  study  authors  who  lived 
two  thousand  years  ago,  in  an  age  of  darkness  ? 
Shame  on  the  thought !  Shall  we,  who  are  Christians, 
and  live  in  an  age  of  light,  look  for  instruction  to  Plato, 
Aristotle,  Cicero,  or  Seneca,  men  from  dark  pagan 
times  ?  It  were  preposterous  !  Let  such  works  perish, 
or  sink  back  to  their  original  night."  *     So  it  goes  with 

*  The  following  anecdote  is  quite  to  the  point.  One  day,  in  the 
year  1530,  a  French  monk  said  in  the  pulpit,  "a  new  language  has 
been  discovered,  which  is  called  Greek.  You  must  take  good  heed, 
and  keep  out  of  its  way.  This  language  engenders  all  heresies.  I 
see  in  the  hands  of  many,  a  book  written  in  this  language.  It  is 
called  the  Kew  Testament.  It  is  a  book  full  of  thorns  and  vipers. 
As  for  the  Hebrew  language,  all  who  study  that  become  Jews  imme- 


34  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

US,  and  it  is  said,  "  Shall  we  Americans,  excellent 
Christians  as  we  are,  who  live  in  a  land  of  education, 
of  righteousness,  of  religion,  and  know  how  to  recon- 
cile it  all  with  our  three  millions  of  slaves ;  in  the  land 
of  steamboats  and  railroads ;  we  Americans,  possessed 
of  all  needed  intelligence  and  culture,  shall  we  read  the 
books  of  the  Germans,  infidels  as  they  are?  Germans, 
who  dwell  in  the  clouds,  and  are  only  fitted  by  divine 
grace  to  smoke  tobacco  and  make  dictionaries!  Out 
upon  the  thought." 

No  doubt  this  decision  is  quite  as  wise  as  that  pro- 
nounced so  gravely  by  conservatives  and  alarmists  of 
the  middle  ages.  "  Would  you  have  me  try  the  crimi- 
nal before  I  pass  sentence?"  said  the  Turkish  justice; 
"  that  were  a  waste  of  words  and  time,  for  if  I  should 
condemn  him  after  examination,  why  not  before,  and 
so  save  the  trouble  of  looking  into  the  matter?"  Cer- 
tainly the  magistrate  was  wise,  and  wherever  justice  is 
thus  administered,  the  traditional  complaint  of  the 
"  law's  delay  "  will  never  dare  lift  up  its  voice.  Honor 
to  the  Turkish  judge  and  his  swift  decision ;  long  may 
it  be  applied  to  German  literature.  Certainly  it  is 
better  that  ninety-and-nine  innocent  persons  should 
suffer  outrageous  torture,  than  that  one  guilty  should 
escape.  Why  should  not  public  opinion  lay  an  em- 
bargo on  German  works,  as  on  India  crackers,  or  forbid 
their  sale  ?  Certainly  it  costs  more  labor  to  read  them, 
than  the  many  excclleiit  books  in  the  mother-tongue. 
No  doubt  a  ready  reader  would  go  over  the  whole 
ninety-eight  volumes  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  less  time 
than  he  could  plod  through  and  master  the  single  obsti- 


diately."  —  Sismondi,  Histoire  des  Francais,  T.  XVI.  p.  364,  cited  ia 
Michelet's  liist.  Luther. 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  35 

nate  book  of  Kant's  Kritik  of  the  Pure  Reason.  Stew- 
art, and  Brown,  and  Reid,  and  Paley,  and  Thomas 
Dick,  and  Abercrombie,  are  quite  easy  reading.  They 
trouble  no  man's  digestion,  though  he  read  them  after 
dinner  with  his  feet  on  the  fender.  Arg,  not  these 
writers,  with  their  illustrious  progenitors,  successors/ 
and  coadjutors,  sufficient  for  all  practical  purposes? 
Why,  then,  allow  our  studious  youth  in  colleges  and 
log-cabins  to  pour  over  Leibnitz  and  Hegel,  till  they 
think  themselves  blind,  and  the  red  rose  yields  to  the 
white  on  their  cheek  ? 

In  the  name  of  good  sense,  we  would  ask  if  English 
literature,  with  the  additions  of  American  genius,  is  not 
rich  enough  without  our  going  to  the  Hercynian  forest, 
where  the  scholars  do  not  think,  but  only  dream  ?  Not 
to  mention  Milton,  and  Shakspeare,  and  Bacon, — 
names  confessedly  without  parallel  in  the  history  of 
thought,  —  have  we  not  surpassed  the  rest  of  the  world, 
in  each  department  of  science,  literature,  philosophy, 
and  theology  ?  Whence  comes  the  noble  array  of  scien- 
tific works,  that  connect  general  laws  with  single  facts, 
and  reveal  the  mysteries  of  nature?  Whence  come 
the  most  excellent  works  in  poetry,  criticism,  and  art  ? 
Whence  the  profound  treatises  on  ethics  and  meta- 
physics ?  Whence  the  deep  and  wide  volumes  of  the- 
ology, the  queen  of  all  sciences  ?  Whence  come  works 
on  the  classics  of  Greece  and  Rome  ?  Whence  histories 
of  all  the  chief  concerns  of  man  ?  Do  they  not  all 
come,  in  this  age,  from  England  and  our  own  bosom  ? 
What  need  have  we  of  asking  favors  from  the  Germans, 
or  of  studying  their  literature?  As  the  middle-age 
monks  said  of  the  classics,  —  anathema  sit.  It  is  cer- 
tainly right,  that  the  ghost  of  terror,  like  Mr.  Littlefaith 
in  the  story,  should  cross  itself  in  presence  of  such  a 


36  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

spirit,  and  utter  its  Apage  Sathanas.  Such  an  anath- 
ema would,  no  doubt,  crush  the  Monadnock  —  or  a 
sugar-plum. 

But  let  us  come  out  of  this  high  court  of  Turkish 
justice,  and  for  a  moment  look  German  literature  in  the 
face,  and  allow  it  to  speak  for  itself.  To  our  apprehen- 
sion, German  literature  is  the  fairest,  the  richest,  the 
most  original,  fresh,  and  religious  literature  of  all  mod- 
ern times.  We  say  this  advisedly.  We  do  not  mean 
to  say  Germany  has  produced  the  greatest  poetic  genius 
of  modern  times.  It  has  no  Shakspeare,  as  the  world 
has  but  one,  in  whom  the  Poetic  Spirit  seems  to  culmi- 
nate, though  it  will  doubtless  rise  higher  in  better  ages. 
But  we  sometimes  hear  it  said,  admitting  the  excellence 
of  two  or  three  German  writers,  yet  their  literature  is 
narrow,  superficial,  and  poor,  when  compared  with  that 
of  England.  Let  us  look  at  the  facts,  and  compare  the 
two  in  some  points.  Classical  taste  and  culture  have 
long  been  the  boast  of  England.  There  is  a  wealth  of 
classical  allusion  in  her  best  writers,  which  has  an  inex- 
pressible charm,  and  forms  the  chief  minor  grace,  in 
many  a  work  of  poetic  art.  Classical  culture  is  the 
pride,  we  take  it,  of  her  two  "ancient  and  honorable 
universities,"  and  their  spirit  prevails  everywhere  in  the 
island.  The  English  scholar  is  proud  of  his  "  quantity," 
and  the  correctness  of  his  quotations  from  Seneca  and 
Demosthenes.  But  from  what  country  do  we  get  edi- 
tions of  the  classics,  that  are  worth  the  reading,  in 
which  modern  science  and  art  are  brought  to  bear  on 
the  ancient  text  ?  What  country  nurtures  the  men  that 
illustrate  Homer,  Herodotus,  the  Anthology  of  Pla- 
nudes,  and  the  dramatic  poets  ?  Who  explain  for  us 
the  antiquities  of  Athens,  and  write  minute  treatises  on 


GERMAN"   LITERATURE.  37 

the  law  of  inheritance,  the  castes,  tribes,  and  manners 
of  the  men  of  Attica  ?  Who  collect  all  the  necessary- 
facts,  and  reproduce  the  ideas  lived  out,  consciously  or 
unconsciously,  on  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas,  the  Nile, 
or  the  Alpheus?  Why,  the  Germans.  '^Ve  do  not 
hesitate  to  say,  that  in  the  present  century  not  a  Greek 
pr  a  Roman  classic  has  been  tolerably  edited  in  Eng- 
land, except  through  the  aid  of  some  German  scholar. 
The  costly  editions  of  Greek  authors  that  come  to  us 
from  Oxford  and  London,  beautiful  reprints  of  Plato, 
Aristotle,  Aristophanes,  Euripides,  Sophocles,  ^Eschylus, 
Herodotus,  the  Attic  orators,  and  Plotinus ;  all  these 
are  the  work  of  German  erudition,  German  toil,  Ger- 
man genius  sometimes.  The  wealthy  islanders,  proud 
of  their  classic  culture,  furnish  white  paper  and  lumi- 
nous type;  but  the  curious  diligence  that  never  tires;, 
the  profound  knowledge  and  philosophy  which  brings 
the  whole  light  of  Grecian  genius  to  illuminate  a  single 
point ;  all  this  is  German,  and  German  solely.  Did  it 
not  happen  within  ten  years,  that  the  translation  of  a 
German  work,  containing  some  passages  in  Greek,  in- 
correctly pointed  in  the  original  edition,  and,  therefore, 
severely  censured  at  home,  was  about  being  published 
in  Edinburgh,  and  no  man  could  be  found  in.  the 
Athens  of  the  North,  and  "  no  man  in  all  Scotland,!'' 
who  could  correctly  accent  the  Greek  words!  The 
fact  must  be  confessed.  So  the  book  was  sent  to 
its  author,  —  a  Professor  of  Theology,  —  and  he  put  it 
into  the  hands  of  one  of  his  pupils,  and  the  work  was- 
done.  These  things  are  trifles,  but  a  straw  shows- 
which  way  the  stream  runs,  when  a  millstone  would 
not.  Whence  come  even  the  grammars  and  lexicons,, 
of  almost  universal  use  in  studying  the  ancient  authors?' 
The  name  of  Reimer,  and  Damm,  and  Schneider,  and; 

4 


38  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

Biittman,  and  Passow,  give  the  answer.  Where  are 
the  English  classical  scholars  in  this  century,  who  take 
rank  with  Wolf,  Heyne,  Schweighauser,  Wyttenbach, 
Boeckh,  Herrmann,  Jacobs,  Siebelis,  Hoffman,  Sieben- 
kees,  Miiller,  Creutzer,  Wellaacr,  and  Ast?  Nay,  where 
shall  we  find  the  rivals  of  Dindorf,  Schiifer,  Stallbaiim, 
Spitzner,  Bothe,  and  Bekker,  and  a  host  more  ?  for  we 
have  only  written  down  those^which  rushed  into  our 
mind.  What  English  name  of  the  present  century  can 
be  mentioned  with  the  least  of  these?  Not  one.  They 
labor,  and  we  may  enter  into  their  labors,  if  we  are  not 
too  foolish.  Who  write  ancient  history  like  Niebiihr, 
and  Miiller,  and  Schlosser  ?  But  for  the  Germans,  the 
English  would  have  believed  till  this  day,  perhaps,  all 
the  stories  of  Livy,  that  it  rained  stones,  and  oxen  spoke, 
for  so  it  was  written  in  Latin,  and  the  text  was  unim- 
peachable. 

But  some  may  say,  these  are  not  matters  of  primary 
concern  ;  in  things  of  "  great  pith  and  moment  "  we  are 
superior  to  these  Teutonic  giants.  Would  it  were  so. 
Perhaps,  in  some  of  the  physical  sciences  the  English 
surpass  their  German  friends,  though  even  here  we  have 
doubts,  which  are  strengthened  every  month.  One 
would  expect  the  most  valuable  works  on  physical 
geography  from  England ;  but  we  are  disappointed,  and 
look  in  vain  for  any  one  to  rival  Rittcr,  or  even  Man- 
nert.  In  works  of  general,  civil,  and  political  history 
in  the  present  century,  though  we  have  two  eminent 
historians  in  our  own  country,  one  of  whom  must  take 
rank  with  Thucydides  and  Tacitus,  Gibbon  and  Hume, 
England  has  nothing  to  equal  the  great  works  of  Von 
Hammer,  Wilkins,  and  Schlosser.  Why  need  we  men- 
tion the  German  histories  of  inventions,  of  art,  of  each 
science,  of  classical  education,  of  literature  in  general  ? 


GERMAN    LITERATURE.  39 

Why  name  their  histories  of  Philosophy,  from  Brucker 
down  to  Brandis  and  Michelet?  In  English,  we  have 
but  Stanley,  good  in  his  time,  and  valuable  even  now, 
and  Enfield,  a  poor  compiler  from  Brucker.  The  Ger- 
mans abound  in  histories  of  literature,  froiji,  the  begin- 
ning of  civilization  down  to  the  ^last  Leipsic  fair.  In 
England,  such  works  are  unknown.  We  have  as  yet 
no  history  of  our  own  literature,  though  the  Germans 
have  at  least  one,  quite  readable  and  instructive.  Even 
the  dry  and  defective  book  of  Mr.  Hallam,  —  for  such 
it  is  with  all  its  many  excellences,  —  is  drawn  largely 
from  its  German  predecessors,  though  it  is  often  inferior 
to  them  in  vigor,  and  almost  always  in  erudition  and 
eloquence. 

Doubtless,  the  English  are  a  very  learned  people ;  a 
very  Christian  people  likewise,  no  doubt.  JBut  wathin 
the  present  century,  what  has  been  written  in  the  Eng- 
lish tongue,  in  any  department  of  theological  scholar- 
ship, which  is  of  value,  and  makes  a  mark  on  the  age  ? 
The  Bridgewater  Treatises,  and  the  new  edition  of 
Paley,  —  we  blush  to  confess  it, —  are  the  best  things. 
In  the  criticism  and  explanation  of  the  Bible,  Old  Tes- 
tament oi:  New  Testament,  what  has  been  written,  that 
is  worth  reading?  Nothing,  absolutely  nothing  of  any 
permanent  value,  save  some  half  dozen  of  books,  it  may 
be,  drawn  chiefly  from  German  sources.  Who  have 
written  the  grammars  and  lexicons,  by  which  the  He- 
brew and  Greek  Testaments  are  read  ?  W^hy,  the  Ger- 
mans. Who  have  written  critical  introductions  to  the 
Bible,  useful  helps  in  studying  the  sacred  letters? 
Why,  the  Germans.  Who  have  best,  and  alone  de- 
veloped the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  and  explained  them, 
philosophically  and  practically?  Why,  the  Germans 
again.     Where  are  the  men,  who  shall  stand  up  in 


40  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

presence  of  Gesenius,  Fiirst,  Schleusner,  and  Wahl ; 
Winer,  and  Evvald,  and  Nordheimer;  Michaelis,  Eich- 
horn,  Jahn,  and  Bertholdt,  Hug,  and  De  Wette ;  the 
Rosenmtillers,  Maurer,  Umbreit,  Credner,  Paulus,  Kui- 
noel,  Fritzsche,  Von  Meyer,  Liicke,  Olshausen,  Hengs- 
tenberg,  and  Tholuck,  and  take  rank  as  their  peers? 
We  look  for  them,  but  in  vain.  "  We  put  our  finger 
on  them,  and  they  are  not  there."  What  work  on  the- 
ology, which  has  deserved  or  attracted  general  notice, 
has  been  written  in  English,  in  the  present  century  ? 
AVe  know  of  none.  In  Germany,  such  works  are  nu- 
merous. They  have  been  written  by  pious  men,  and 
the  profoundest  scholars  of  the  age.  Wegscheider's 
Theology  is  doubtless  a  poor  work ;  but  its  equal  is  no- 
where to  be  found  in  the  English  tongue.  Its  equal, 
did  we  say?  There  is  nothing  that  can  pretend  to  ap- 
proach it.  Where,  then,  shall  we  find  rivals  for  such 
theologians  as  Ammon,  Hase,  Daub,  Baumgarten 
Crusius,  Schleiermacher,  Bretschneider,  and  De  Wette? 
even  for  ZacharifB,  Vatke,  and  Kaiser? 

In  ecclesiastical  history  everybody  knows  what  sort 
of  works  have  proceeded  from  the  English  and  Ameri- 
can scholars.  Jortin,  Milner,  Priestley,  Campbell,  Echard, 
Erskine,  Jones,  Waddington,  and  Sabine;  these  are  our 
writers.  But  what  arc  their  works?  They  are  scarcely 
known  in  the  libraries  of  scholars.  For  our  knowledge 
of  ecclesiastical  history  we  depend  on  the  translations 
from  Du  Pin,  and  Tillemont,  or  more  generally  on  those 
from  the  German  Mosheini  and  Gieseler.  All  our 
English  ecclesiastical  historians,  what  are  they  when 
weighed  against  Mosheim,  the  Walchs,  Vater,  Gieseler, 
Schriiekh,  Planck,  Muensclier,  Tzschirner,  and  Neander? 
Why,  they  might  make  sumptuous  repasts  on  the  crumbs 
which  fall  from  these  men's  table.     The  Germans  pub- 


GERMAN    LITERATURE.  41 

lish  the  Fathers  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  church,  and 
study  them.  To  the  English  they  are  almost  "a  garden 
shut  up  and  a  fountain  sealed."  It  is  only  the  Germans 
in  this  age,  who  study  theology,  or  even  the  Bible,  with 
the  aid  of  enlightened  and  scientific  criticiftra.  There 
is  not  even  a  history  of  theology  in  our  language. 

But  this  is  not  all,  by  no  means  the  chief  merit  of  the 
German  scholars.  AVithin  less  than  threescore  years 
there  have  apjjeared  among  them  four  philosophers, 
who  would  have  been  conspicuous  in  any  age,  and  will 
hereafter,  we  think,  be  named  with  Plato,  Aristotle, 
Bacon,  Descartes,  and  Leibnitz  —  among  the  great 
thinkers  of  the  world.  They  are  Kant,  Fichte,  Schel- 
ling,  and  Hegel.  Silently  these,  lights  arose  and  wejit 
up  the  sky  without  noise,  to  take  their  place  among 
the  fixed  stars  of  Genius  and  shine  with  them;  names 
that  will  not  fade  out  of  heaven  until  some  ages  shall 
have  passed  away.  These  men  were  thinkers  all; 
deep,  mighty  thinkers.  They  knelt  reverently  down 
before  Nature,  with  religious  hearts,  and  asked  her 
questions.  They  sat  on  the  brink  of  the  well  of  Truth, 
and  continued  to  draw  for  themselves  and  the  world. 
Take  Kant  alone,  and  in  the  whole  compass  of  thought, 
we  scarce  know  his  superior.  From  Aristotle  to  Leib- 
nitz, we  do  not  find  his  equal.  No,  nor  since  Leibnitz. 
Need  we  say  it  ?  Was  there  not  many  a  Lord  Bacon 
in  Immanuel  Kant?  Leibnitz  himself  was  not  more 
capacious,  nor  the  Stagyrite  more  profound.  What 
revolutions  are  in  his  thoughts.  His  books  are  battles. 
Philosophical  writers  swarm  in  Germany.  Philosophy 
seems  epidemic  almost,  and  a  score  of  first-rate  Ameri- 
can, or  half  a  dozen  English  reputations,  might  be  made 
out  of  any  of  their  philosophical  writers  of  fourth  or 


42  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

fifth  magnitude.     Here,  one  needs  very  little  scholar- 
ship to  establish  a  name.     A  small  capital  suffices  for 
the  outfit,  for  the  credit  system  seems  to  prevail  in  the 
literary,  as  well  as  the  commercial  world ;  and  one  can 
draw  on  the   Bank  of  Possibilities,  as  well  as  the  fund 
of  achievements.     One  need  but  open  any  number  of 
the  Berlin  Jahrbiicher,  the  Jena  Allgemeine  Literatur 
Zeitung,  or  the   Studien  und   Kritiken,  to  see  what  a 
lofty  spirit  prevails  among  the  Germans  in  philosophy, 
criticism,  and  religion.     There,  a  great  deal  is  taken  for 
granted,  and  supposed  to  be  known  to  all  readers,  which 
here  is  not  to  be   supposed,  except  of  a  very  few,  the 
most  learned.     Philosophy  and  theology  we  reckon  as 
the  pride  of  the   Germans.     Here  their  genius  bursts 
into  bloom,  and  ripens  into  fruit.     But  they  are  greatly 
eminent,  likewise,  in  the  departments  of   poetry,  and 
■elegant  letters  in  general.    Notwithstanding  their  wealth 
of  erudition,  they  are  eminently  original.   'Scandinavia 
and  the  East,  Greece   and   the   middle  ages,  all  pour 
their  treasures  into  the  lap  of  the  German  muse,  who 
•not  only  makes  trinkets  therefrom,  but  out  of  her  own 
stores  of  linen,  and  wool,  and  silk,  spins  and  weaves 
strong  and  beautiful  apparel  for  all  her  household,  and 
the  needy  everywhere.     "  She  maketh  herself  coverings 
of  tapestry;  her  clothing  is  silk  and  purple."     No  doubt, 
amon<?  tiie  (lermans  there  is  an  host  of  servile  imita- 
tors,  whose  mind  travels  out  of  itself,  so  to  say,  and 
makes  pilgrimages  to  Dante,  or  Shakspeare,  or  Pindar, 
or  Thucydides.     Some  men  think  they  arc  very  Shak- 
speares,  because  they  transgress  obvious  rules.      The 
rsickly  negations  of  Byron,  his  sensibility,  misanthropy, 
and    aflcctation,    are    aped    every    day    in    Berlin    and 
•Vienna.     Horace   and  Swift,  Anacreon  and  Bossuet, 


GERMAN    LITERATURE.  43 

and  Seneca  and  Walter  Scott,  not  to  name  others,  have 
imitators  in  every  street,  who  remind  one  continually 
of  the  wren  that  once  got  into  the  eagle's  nest,  set  up 
to  be  king  of  the  birds,  and  attempted  a  scream.  Still 
the  staple  of  their  literature  is  eminently  (5liginal.  Iji 
point  of  freshness,  it  has  no  equal  since  the  days  of 
Sophocles.  Who  shall  match  with  Wieland,  and  Les- 
sing,  the  Schlegels,  Herder,  so  sweet  and  beautiful, 
Jean  Paul,  Tieck,  and  Schiller,  and  Goethe  ?  We 
need  not  mention  lesser  names,  nor  add  more  of  their 
equals. 

In  what  we  have  said,  we  would  not  underrate  Eng- 
lish literature,  especially  the  works  of  former  ages.  We 
would  pay  deep  and  lasting  homage  to  the  great  poets, 
historians,  philosophers,  and  divines  of  the  mother  coun- 
try, in  her  best  days.  Their  influence  is  still  fresh  and 
living  throughout  the  world  of  letters.  But  as  these 
great  spirits  ascended,  the  mantle  of  their  genius,  or  in- 
spiration, has  fallen  on  the  Germans,  and  not  the  Eng- 
lish. Well  says  a  contemporary,  "  Modern  works  are 
greatly  deficient  both  in  depth  and  purity  of  sentiment. 
They  seldom  contain  original  and  striking  views  of  the 
nature  of  man,  and  of  the  institutions  which  spring 
from  his  volition.  There  is  a  dearth  of  thought  and 
sterility  of  sentiment  among  us.  Literature,  art,  phi- 
losophy, and  life,  are  without  freshness,  ideality,  verity, 
and  spirit.  Most  works,  since  the  days  of  Milton, 
require  little  thought;  they  want  depth,  freshness;  the 
meaning  is  on  the  surface ;  and  the  charm,  if  any,  is  no 
deeper  than  the  fancy;  the  imagination  is  not  called 
into  life  ;  the  thoughts  are  carried  creepingly  along  the 
earth,  and  often  lost  amid  the  low  and  uncleanly  things 
of  sense  and  custom."  "  I  do  not,  at  this  time,  think 
of  any  writer  since   Milton,  excepting  Coleridge  and 


44  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

Wordsworth,  whose  works  require  a  serene  and  thought- 
ful spirit,  in  order  to  be  understood.''  * 

As  little  would  we  be  insensible  to  the  merits  of  the 
rising  literature  of  our  own  land.  Little  could  be  ex- 
pected  of  us,  hitherto.  Our  business  has  been,  to  hew 
down  the  forest ;  to  make  paths  and  saw-mills ;  railroads 
and  steamboats ;  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  great  peo- 
ple, and  provide  for  the  emergencies  of  the  day.  As 
yet,  there  is  no  American  literature,  which  corresponds 
to  the  first  principles  of  our  institutions,  as  the  English 
or  French  literature  corresponds  to  theirs.  We  are, 
perhaps,  yet  too  young  and  raw  to  carry  out  the  great 
American  idea,  either  in  literature  or  society.  At 
present,  both  are  imitations,  and  seem  rather  the  result 
of  foreign  and  accidental  circumstances,  than  the  off- 
spring of  our  own  spirit.  No  doubt,  the  time  will 
come,  when  there  shall  be  an  American  school,  in 
science,  letters,  and  the  elegant  arts.  Certainly,  there 
is  none  now.  The  promise  of  it  must  be  sought  in  our 
newspapers,  and  speeches,  oftener  than  in  our  books. 
Like  all  other  nations,  we  have  begun  with  imitations, 
and  shall  come  to  originals,  doubtless,  before  we  end. 

But  there  is  one  peculiar  charm  in  German  literature, 
quite  unequalled,  we  think,  in  modern  days,  that  is,  the 
RELIGIOUS  character  of  their  works.  We  know  it  is 
often  said,  the  Germans  are  licentious,  immoral  in  all 
ways,  and  above  all  men,  —  not  the  old  giants  except- 
ed, —  are  haters  of  religion.  One  would  fancy  Mezen- 
tius  or  Goliath  was  the  archetype  of  the  nation.  We 
say  it  advisedly,  that  this  is,  in  our  opinion,  the  most 
religious  literature  the  world  has  seen  since  the  palmy 
days  of  Greek  writing,  when  the  religious  spirit  seemed 

*  A.  B.  Alcott  in  "  llecord  of  a  School." 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  45 

fresh,  and  warm,  coming  into  life,  and  playing  grateful 
with  the  bland  celestial  light,  reflected  from  each  flower- 
cup,  and  passing  cloud,  or  received  direct  and  straight- 
way from  the  Source  of  all.  It  stands  an  unconscious 
witness  to  the  profound  piety  of  the  Gerwan  heart. 
We  had  almost  said  it  was  the  only  Christian  national 
literature  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Certainly,  to  our 
judgment,  the  literature  of  Old  England,  in  her  best 
days,  was  less  religious  in  thought  and  feeling,  as  it  was 
less  beautiful  in  its  form,  and  less  simple  in  it*  quiet, 
loving  holiness,  than  this  spontaneous  and  multiform 
expression  of  the  German  soul.  But  we  speak  not  for 
others ;  let  each  drink  of  "  that  spiritual  rock,"  where 
the  water  is  most  salubrious  to  him.  But  we  do  not 
say  that  German  literature  comprises  no  works  decid- 
edly immoral  and  irreligious.  Certainly  we  have  read' 
such,  but  they  are  rare,  while  almost  every  book,  not 
entirely  scientific  and  technical,  breathes  a  religious 
spirit.  You  meet  this,  coming  unobtrusively  upon  you, 
where  you  least  of  all  expect  it.  We  do  not  say,  that 
the  idea  of  a  Christian  literature  is  realized  in  Germany, 
or  likely  to  be  realized.  No ;  the  farthest  from  it  possi- 
ble. No  nation  has  yet  dreamed  of  realizing  it.  Nor 
can  this  be  done,  until  Christianity  penetrates  the  heart 
of  the  nations,  and  brings  all  into  subjection  to  the 
spirit  of  life.  The  Christianity  of  the  world  is  yet  but 
a  baptized  heathenism,  so  literature  is  yet  heathen  and 
profane.  We  dare  not  think,  lest  we  think  against  our 
Faith.  As  if  Truth  were  hostile  to  Faith,  and  God's, 
house  were  divided  against  itself.  The  Greek  literature 
represents  the  Greek  religion  ;  its  ideal  and  its  practical 
side.  But  all  the  literature  of  all  Christian  nations, 
taken  together,  does  not  represent  the  true  Christian 
religion,  only  that  fraction  of  it  these  nations  could 


46  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

translate  into  their  experience.  Hence,  we  have  as  yet 
only  the  cradle  song  of  Christianity,  and  its  nursery 
rhymes.  The  samfe  holds  true  in  art,  —  painting,  sculp- 
ture, and  architecture.  Hitherto  it  is  only  the  church 
militant,  not  the  church  triumphant,  that  has  been  rep- 
resented. A  Gothic  cathedral  gives  you  the  aspiration, 
not  the  attainment,  the  resting  in  the  fulness  of  God, 
which  is  the  end  of  Christianity.  We  have  Magdalens, 
Madonnas;  saints,  emaciated  almost  to  anatomies,  with 
most  %ieful  visage;  and  traditional  faces  of  the  Saviour. 
These,  however,  express  the  penitence,  the  wailing  of 
the  world  lying  in  darkness,  rather  than  the  light  of  the 
nations.  The  Son  of  Man  risen  from  the  grave  is  yet 
lacking,  in  art.  The  Christian  Prometheus,  or  Apollo, 
is  not  yet;  still  less  the  triple  Graces,  and  the  Olympian 
Jove  of  Christianity.  What  is  Saint  Peter's  to  the 
Parthenon,  considered  as  symbols  of  the  two  religions? 
The  same  deficiency  prevails  in  literature.  We  have 
inherited  much  from  the  heathen,  and  so  Christianity, 
becoming  the  residuary  legatee  of  deceased  religions, 
has  earned  but  little  for  itself.  History  has  not  yet 
been  written  in  the  spirit  of  the  Christian  scheme  ;  as  a 
friend  says,  hitherto  it  has  been  the  "  history  of  elder 
brothers."  Christianity  would  write  of  the  whole 
family.  The  great  Christian  poem,  the  Tragedy  of 
Mankind,  has  not  yet  been  conceived.  A  Christian 
philosophy  founded  on  an  exhaustive  analysis  of  Man, 
is  among  the  things  that  are  distant.  The  true  religion 
has  not  yet  done  its  work  in  the  heart  of  the  nations. 
How,  then,  can  it  reach  their  literature,  their  arts,  their 
society,  which  come  from  the  nation's  heart  ?  Chris- 
tianity is  still  in  tlie  manger,  wrapped  in  swaddling 
bands,  and  unable  to  move  its  limbs.  Its  Jewish  parent 
watches  fearful,  with  a  pondering  heart.    The  shepherds, 


GERMAN    LITERATURE.  47 

that  honor  the  new-born,  are  Jewish  still,  dripping  as 
yet  with  the  dews  of  ancient  night.  The  heathen  ma- 
gicians hav.e  come  np  to  worship,  guided  by  the  star  of 
truth,  which  goes  before  all  simple  hearts,  and  lighteth 
every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world.  Brtt  they  are 
heathen  even  now.  They  can  only  ofi'er  "gold,  and 
frankincense,  and  myrrh."  They  do  not  give  their 
mind,  and  still  less  their  heart.  The  celestial  child  is 
still  surrounded  by  the  oxen,  that  slumber  in  their  stalls, 
or  wake  to  blame  the  light  that  prevents  their  animal 
repose.  The  Herod  of  superstition  is  troubled,  and  his 
city  with  him.  Alarmed  at  the  new  tidings,  he  gathers 
together  his  mighty  men,  his  chief  priests  and  scribes, 
to  take  counsel  of  his  twin  prophets,  the  Flesh  and  the 
Devil,  and  while  he  pretends  id  seek  only  to  worship, 
he  would  gladly  slay  the  young  child,  that  is  born  King 
of  the  world.  But  Christianity  will  yet  grow  up  to 
manhood,  and  escape  the  guardianship  of  traditions,  to 
do  the  work  God  has  chosen.  Then,  and  not  till  then, 
will  the  gospel  of  beautiful  souls,  fair  as  the  light,  and 
"  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners,"  be  written  in  the 
literature,  arts,  society,  and  life  of  the  world.  Now 
when  we  say  that  German  literature  is  religious,  above 
all  others,  we  mean,  that  it  comes  nearer  than  any  other 
to  the  Christian  ideal  of  literary  art.  Certainly  it  by 
no  means  reaches  the  mark. 

Such,  then,  is  German  literature.  Now,  with  those 
among  us,  who  think  nothing  good  can  come  of  it,  we 
have  nothing  to  say.  Let  them  rejoice  in  their  own 
cause,  and  be  blessed  in  it.  But  from  the  influence  this 
rich,  beloved,  and  beautiful  literature  will  exert  on  our 
infant  world  of  letters,  we  hope  the  most  happy  results. 
The  diligence  which  shuns  superficial  study ;  the  bold- 


48  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

ness  which  looks  for  the  causes  of  things,  and  the  desire 
to  fall  back  on  what  alone  is  elementary  and  eternal,  in 
criticism,  philosophy,  and  religion;  the  religious  humility 
and  reverence  which  pervades  it,  may  well  stimulate 
our  youth  to  great  works.  We  would  not  that  any  one 
should  give  in  his  adhesion  to  a  German  master,  or  copy 
German  models.  All  have  their  defects.  We  wonder 
that  clear  thinkers  can  write  so  darkly  as  some  do,  and 
that  philosophers  and  theologians  are  content  with  their 
slovenly  paragraphs,  after  Goethe  has  written  such 
luminous  prose.  We  doubt,  that  their  philosophical  or 
theological  systems  can  ever  take  root  in  the  American 
mind.  But  their  method  may  well  be  followed ;  and 
fortunate  will  it  be  for  us  if  the  central  truths,  their  sys- 
tems are  made  to  preserve,  are  sown  in  our  soil,  and 
bear  abundant  fruit.  No  doubt,  there  is  danger  in 
studying  these  writings ;  just  as  there  is  danger  in  read- 
ing Copernicus,  or  Locke,  Aristotle,  or  Lord  Brougham, 
or  Isaiah  and  St.  John.  As  a  jocose  friend  says,  "it  is 
always  dangerous  for  a  young  man  to  think,  for  he  may 
think  wrong,  you  know."  It  were  sad  to  see  men  run 
mad  after  German  philosophy  ;  but  it  is  equally  sad  to 
see  them  go  to  the  same  excess  in  English  philosophy. 
If  "  Transcendentalism"  is  bad,  so  is  Paleyism,  and 
Materialism.  Truth  is  possessed  entire  by  no  sect, 
German  or  English.  It  requires  all  schools  to  get  at 
all  Truth,  as  the  whole  Church  is  needed  to  preach  the 
whole  Gospel.  Blessed  were  the  days  when  Truth 
dwelt  among  men  in  her  wholeness.  But  alas  I  they 
only  existed  in  fal)le,  and  now,  like  Osiris  in  the  story, 
she  is  cut  into  fragments  and  scattered  world-wide,  and 
sorrowing  mortals  must  journey  their  life  long,  to  gather 
here  a  piece  and  there  a  piece.  But  the  whole  can 
never  be  joined  and  reanimated  in  this  life.     Where 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  49' 

there  is  much  thought,  there  will  be  some  truth,  and 
where  there  is  freedom  in  thinking,  there  is  room  for 
misconduct  also.  We  hope  light  from  Germany ;  but 
we  expect  shadows  with  it.  The  one  will  not  eclipse 
the  sun,  nor  the  other  be  thicker  than  the  oid  darkness- 
we  have  "felt"  from  our  youth  up.  We  know  there  is- 
SIN  among  the  Germans ;  it  is  so  wherever  there  are- 
men  and  women.  Philosophy,  in  Germany  or  England,, 
like  the  stout  man  a  journeying,  advances  from  day  tO' 
day  ;  but  sometimes  loses  the  track  and  wanders,  "  not 
knowing  whither  he  goeth  ; "  nay,  sometimes  stumbles- 
into  a  ditch.  When  this  latter  accident,  —  as  it  is  con- 
fessed, —  has  befallen  Philosophy  in  America  and  Eng- 
land, and  men  declare  she  is  stark  dead,  we  see  not  why 
her  friends  might  not  call  on  her  German  sister,  to  ex- 
tricate her  from  the  distress,  and  revive  her  once  more,, 
or  at  least  give  her  decent  burial.  We  are  sorry,  we 
confess  it,  to  see  foolish  young  men,  and  old  men  not 
burdened  with  wisdom,  trusting  wholly  in  a  man  ;, 
thinking  as  he  thinks,  and  moving  as  he  pulls  the 
strings.  It  is  dangerous  to  yield  thus  to  a  German,  or 
a  Scotch  philosopher.  It  were  bad  to  be  borne  off  on  a 
cloud  by  Fichte  and  Hegel,  or  to  be  made  "  spouse  of 
the  worm  and  brother  of  the  clay,"  by  Priestley  or  Paley. 
But  we  fancy  it  were  better  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Jove 
than  Pluto.  We  cannot  predict  the  result  of  the  Ger- 
man movement  in  Philosophy  ;  but  we  see  no  more 
reason  for  making  Henry  Heine,  Gutzkow,  and  Schefer, 
the  exponents  of  that  movement,  —  as  the  manner  of 
some  is,  —  than  for  selecting  Bulwer,  Byron,  Moore,, 
and  Taylor  the  infidel,  to  represent  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. Seneca  and  Petronius  were  both  Roman  men,, 
but  which  is  the  type?  Let  German  literature  be 
weighed  in  an  even  balance,  and  then  pass  for  what  it. 

5 


50  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

is  worth.  We  have  no  fear  that  it  will  be  written 
down,  and  should  be  sorry  to  see  any  exaggerated  state- 
ment of  its  excellence,  which  would,  in  the  end,  lead  to 
disappointment. 

We  turn  now  to  the  book  named  at  the  head  of  our 
article.  The  author's  design  is  to  give  a  picture  of  Ger- 
man literature.  His  work  does  not  pretend  to  be  a 
history,  nor  to  point  out  the  causes  which  have  made 
the  literature  what  it  is.  His  aim  is  to  write  of  subjects, 
rather  than  to  talk  about  books.  His  work  is  merely  a 
picture.  Since  this  is  so,  its  character  depends  on  two 
things,  namely,  the  artist's  point  of  sight,  and  the  fidel- 
ity with  which  he  has  painted  things  as  they  appear, 
from  that  point.  The  first  question  then  is,  from  what 
point  does  he  survey  the  field?  It  is  not  that  of  phi- 
losophy, theology,  or  politics.  He  is  no  adept  in  either 
of  these  sciences.  He  is  eminently  national,  and  takes 
the  stand  of  a  German  amateur.  Therefore  it  is  his 
duty  to  paint  things  as  they  appear  to  a  disinterested 
German  man  of  letters ;  so  he  must  treat  of  religion, 
philosophy,  education,  history,  politics,  natural  science, 
poetry,  law,  and  criticism,  from  this  point  of  view.  It 
would  certainly  require  an  encyclopedical  head  to  dis- 
cuss ably  all  these  subjects,  and  bring  them  down  to 
the  comprehension  of  the  unlearned.  It  was  scarcely 
to  be  expected,  that  any  one  man  should  be  so  familiar 
with  all  departments  of  thought  in  a  literature  so  wide 
and  rich  as  this,  as  never  to  make  mistakes,  and  even 
great  mistakes.  But  Mr.  Menzcl  does  not  give  us  a 
faithful  picture  of  things  as  seen  from  this  position,  as 
we  shall  proceed  to  show  in  some  details.  He  carries 
with  him  violent  prejudices,  which  either  blind  his  eyes 
to  the  truth,  or  prevent  him  from  representing  it  as  it  is. 


GERMAN    LITERATURE.  51 

On  his  first  appearance,  his  unmanly  hostility  to  Goethe 
began  to  show  itself.*  Nay,  it  appeared,  we  are  told, 
in  his  Streckverse,  published  a  little  before.  This  hos- 
tility amounts  to  absolute  hatred,  we  think,  not  only  of 
the  works,  but  of  the  man  himself.  This  animosity 
towards  distinguished  authors  vitiates  the  whole  work. 
Personal  feelings  and  prepossessions  perpetually  inter- 
rupt the  cool  judgment  of  the  critic.  When  a  writer 
attempts,  as  Menzel  does,  to  show  that  an  author  who 
has  a  reputation,  which  covers  the  world,  and  rises 
higher  and  higher  each  year,  who  is  distinguished  for 
the  breadth  of  his  studies,  and  the  newness  of  his  views, 
and  his  exquisite  taste  in  all  matters  of  art,  is  only  a 
humbug,  what  can  we  do  but  smile,  and  ask,  if  effects 
come  without  causes  ?  Respecting  this  hostility  to 
Goethe,  insane  as  it  obviously  is,  we  have  nothing  to 
say.  Besides,  the  translator  has  ably  referred  to  the 
matter  in  the  preface.  That  Goethe,  as  a  man;  was 
selfish  to  a  very  high  degree,  a  debauchee  and  well-bred 
epicurean,  who  had  little  sympathy  with  what  was 
highest  in  man,  so  long  as  he  could  crown  himself  with 
rose-buds,  we  are  willing  to  admit.  But  let  him  have 
justice,  none  the  less.  Mr.  Menzel  sets  up  a  false 
standard,  by  which  to  judge  literary  productions.  Phi- 
losophy, ethics,  art,  and  literature,  should  be  judged  of  by 
their  own  laws.  We  would  not  censure  the  Laocoon, 
because  it  did  not  teach  us  agriculture,  nor  the  Iliad, 
because  it  was  not  republican  enough  for  our  taste. 
Each  of  these  works  is  to  be  judged  by  its  own  princi- 
ples.    Now,  we  object  to  our    friend,  that   he   judges 

* Europaischen  Bliittern  for  1824,  I.  B.  p.  1 01-108,  and  IV. p.  233' 
seq.  But  these  we  have  never  seen,  and  only  a  few  stray  numbers  of 
the  Literatur-Blatt. 


52  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

literary  works  by  the  political  complexion  of  their 
author.  Thus,  for  example,  not  to  mention  Goethe,  he 
condemns  Johann  Von  Miiller,  —  whom,  as  a  Swiss,  he 
was  not  bound  to  mention  among  German  writers, — 
and  all  his  works,  because  he  was  no  patriot.  For  him 
"  of  all  the  German  writers,  I  entertain  the  profoundest 
contempt."  No  doubt,  the  venerable  historian,  as  some 
one  has  said,  would  be  overwhelmed  as  he  stands  in  the 
Elysian  fields,  with  Tacitus  and  Thucydides,  to  be  de- 
spised by  such  an  historian  as  Menzel!*  So  Krug  is 
condemned,  not  for  his  fustiness  and  superficiality,  but 
because  he  wrote  against  the  Poles.f  It  is  surprising 
to'what  a  length  this  is  carried.  He  ought  to  condemn 
the  "  Egoism  "  of  Fichte,  no  less  than  that  of  Hegel. 
But  because  the  former  is  a  liberal,  and  the  latter  a  con- 
servative, the  same  thing  is  tolerated  in  the  one  and 
condemned  in  the  other.  Words  cannot  express  his 
abhorrence  of  Hegel.  Fries  is  condemned  as  a  philoso- 
pher, because  he  was  "  almost  the  only  true  patriot 
among  our  philosophers."  Oken  must  not  be  reproach- 
ed with  his  coarse  Materialism,  because  he  resigned  his 
professorship  at  Jena,  rather  than  give  up  his  liberal 
journal.  These  few  instances  are  sufficient  to  show  the 
falseness  of  his  standard. 

He  indulges  in  personal  abuse;  especially  does  he 
pour  out  the  vials  of  his  calumny  on  the  "young  Ger- 
mans," whom  he  censures  for  their  personal  abuse.  He 
seems  to  have  collected  all  the  "  little  city  twaddle,"  as 
the  Germans  significantly  name  it,  as  material  for  his 
work,  and   very  striking   are   the   colors,  indeed.     His 

*  See  ail  able  defence  of  Von  Miiller,  in  Strauss's  Streitschriften, 
Heft  2.     Tiibigen:   1837,  p.  100. 
t  Vol.  I.  p.  235,  seq. 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  53 

abuse  of  this  kind  is  so  gross,  that  we  shall  say  no  more 
of  it*  Mr.  Menzel  is  the  Berserker  of  modern  critics. 
He  scorns  atl- laws  of  literary  warfare;  scalps,  and 
gouges,  and  stabs  under  the  fifth  rib,  m\d  sometimes 
condescends  to  tell  a  littfe  fib,  as  we  shall  show  in  its 
place.  He  often  tries  the  works  he  censures  by  a  moral, 
and  not  a  critical  or  artistic  standard.  No  doubt,  the 
moral  is  the  highest,  and  a  work  of  art,  wherein  the 
moral  element  is  wanting,  deserves  the  severest  censure. 
No  man  can  insist  on  this  too  strongly.  But  when  a 
man  writes  from  the  artistic  point  of  view,  we  think  it 
his  duty  to  adhere  to  his  principles.  If  a  work  is  im- 
moral, it  is  so  far  false  to  the  first  principles  of  art.  It 
does  very  little  good,  we  fancy,  merely  to  cry  out,  that 
this  book  of  Gutzkow,  or  that  of  Goethe,  is  immoral. 
It  only  makes  foolish  young  men  the  more  eager  to 
read  it.  But  if  the  critic  would  show,  that  the  offend- 
ing parts  were  false,  no  less  than  wicked,  and  mere 
warts  and  ulcers  on  the  body  of  the  work,  he  would 
make  the  whole  appear  loathsome,  and  not  attractive. 
Mr.  Menzel  is  bound  to  do  this,  for  he  believes  that  the 
substance  and  the  form  of  art  are  inseparable,  or  in 
plain  English,  that  virtue  is  beautiful,  and  vice  ugly. 
Having  made  this  criticism,  he  might  justly  pronounce 
the  moral  sentence  also.  If  truth  is  harmonious,  then 
a  licentious  work  is  false  and  detestable,  as  well  in  an 
artistic,  as  in  a  moral  point  of  view.  But  we  cannot 
enlarge  on  this  great  question  at  the  end  of  an  article. 

Judging  Menzel  from  his  own  point  of  view,  this 
work  is  defective  in  still  graver  points.  He  carries  his 
partisan  feelings  wherever  he  goes,  and  with  very  super- 
ficial knowledge  passes  a  false  sentence  on  great  men 

*  Read  who  will,  Vol.  III.  p.  228,  for  an  example. 

5* 


54  '  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

and  gr^at  things.  His  mistakes  are  sometimes  quite 
amusing,  even  to  an  American  scholar,  and  must  be 
doubly  ludicrous  to  a  German,  whose  minute  knowl- 
edge of  the  literature  of  his  own  country  would  reveal 
more  mistakes  than  meet  our  eye.  We  will  point  out 
a  few  of  these  in  only  two  chapters. >  That  on  philoso- 
phy and  religion.  In  the  first,  we  think  the  author  may 
safely  defy  any  one  to  divine  from  his  words  the  philo- 
sophical systems  of  the  writers  he  treats  of.  Take,  for 
a  very  striking  example,  his  remarks  upon  Leibnitz.* 
"  The  great  Leibnitz,  who  stood  on  the  boundary  line 
between  the  old  times  of  astrology,  magic,  and  sympa- 
thetic influences,  and  the  later  times  of  severe  scientific 
method,  united  the  labyrinth  of  life,  belonging  to  these 
austere  dark  days,  with  the  clear  light  of  our  own.  He 
was  animated  with  deep  religious  faith,  but  still  had  the 
full  vigor  of  thought.  Living  faith  in  God  was  his 
.rock;  but  his  si/slem  of  worhl-harmnn//,-f  showed  nothing 
lof  the  darkly-colored  cathedral  light  of  the  ancient 
mystics;  it  stood  forth  in  the  clear  white  light  of  the 
day,  like  a  marble  temple  on  the  mountain  top."  From 
this  statement,  one  would  naturally  coimect  Leibnitz 
^with  Pythagoras,  Kepler,  and  Baron  Swedenborg,  who 
really  believed  and  taught  the  world-harmony.  But 
who  would  ever  dream  of  the  Monads,  which  play  such 
a  part  in  the  system  of  Leibnitz?  He  tells  us,  that 
Eberhard  has  written  a  one-sided  and  Kantian  history 
•of  philosophy,  which  is  very  strange  in  a  man  who 
lived  a  Wolfian  all  his  days,  and  fought  against  the 
•critical  philosophy,  though  with  somewhat  more  zeal 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  219. 

-f-  Mr.  Fi'lton  has  translated  Weltliarnionic  "  Proestablishcd  Har- 
titiony',"  which  Leibnitz  believed  in,  but  it  is  not  the  meaning  of  the 
:word. 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  55 

than  knowledge,  it  is  thought.  Besides,  his  history  of 
Philosophy  was  published  in  1788,  before  the  Kantian 
philosophy  had  become  lord  of  the  ascendant.  As  he 
criticizes  poets  by  the  patriotic  standard,  so  he  tries  the 
philosophers  by  his  aesthetic  rule,  and  wonders  they  are 
hard  to  understand.  But  these  are  minor  defects ;  come 
we  to  the  greater.  His  remarks  on  Kant  are  exceed- 
ingly unjust,  not  to  speak  more  harshly.  "  The  philo- 
sophical century  wanted  an  earth  without  a  heaven,  a 
State  without  a  church,  man  without  a  God.  No  one 
has  shown  so  plainly  as  Kant,  how  with  this  limitation 
earth  may  still  be  a  paradise,  the  State  a  moral  union, 
and  man  a  noble  being,  by  his  own  reason  and  power, 
subjected  to  law."  *  We  do  not  see  how  any  one  could 
come  to  this  conclusion,  who  had  read  Kant's  Kritik  of 
Judgment,  and  Practical  Reason,  and  conclude  our 
critic,  forgetting  to  look  into  these  books,  in  his  abhor- 
rence of  scholastic  learning,  and  "  study,  that  makes 
men  pale,"  cut  the  matter  short,  and  rode  over  the  "  high 
priori  road,"  in  great  state  to  the  conclusion.  We  pass 
over  his  account  of  Fichte  and  Schelling,  leaving  such 
as  have  the  ability  to  determine,  from  his  remarks,  what 
were  the  systems  of  these  two  philosophers,  and  recon- 
struct them  at  their  leisure.  There  is  an  old  remark  we 
have  somewhere  heard,  that  it  takes  a  philosopher  to 
judge  a  philosopher;  and  the  truth  of  the  proverb  is 
very  obvious  to  the  readers  of  this  chapter.  Hegel 
seems  the  object  of  our  author's  most  desperate  dislike. 
His  sin,  however,  is  not  so  much  his  philosophy,  as  his 
conservative  politics,  as  it  appears.  He  does  not  con- 
descend,—  as  an  historian  might  do  once  in  a  while, -^ 
to  give  us  a  portrait,  or  even  a  caricature  of  his  system; 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  223. 


56  GERMAN    LITERATURE. 

but  contents  himself  with  such  abuse  as  the  following 
precious  sentences.  "  Hegel  first  reduced  God  to  a 
mere  speculation,  led  about  by  an  evil  spirit,  in  the  void 
of  his  heavenly  heath,  who  does  nothing  but  think,  in- 
deed, nothing  but  think  of  thinking."  *  "  He  makes  no 
distinction  between  himself  and  God ;  he  gives  himself 
out  for  God."  He  says  God  first  came  to  a  clear 
consciousness  of  himself  "  in  the  philosopher  who 
has  the  only  right  philosophy,  therefore  in  himself,  in 
the  person  of  Hegel.  Thus  we  have,  then,  a  miserable, 
hunch-backed,  book-learned  God;  a  wooden  and  squint- 
ing academical  man,  a  man  of  the  most  painful  and 
pompous  scholasticism ;  in  a  word,  a  German  pedant 
on  the  throne  of  the  world."  We  need  make  no  com- 
ments on  the  spirit  which  suggests  such  a  criticism 
upon  a  philosopher  like  Hegel.  Still  further,  he  says, 
Forster  "  declared,  over  the  grave  of  Hegel,  that,  beyond 
all  doubt,  Hegel  was  himself  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  third 
person  in  the  Godhead."  When  we  read  this  several 
years  ago,  we  believed  the  words  were  uttered  by  some 
man  of  an  Oriental  imagination,  who  meant  no  harm 
by  his  seeming  irreverence.  But  on  inquiry  we  find  it 
is  not  so.  One  who  heard  Mr.  Forster's  Oration,  who 
had  it  lying  before  him,  in  print,  at  the  time  of  writing, 
declares,  there  was  no  such  thing  in  it,  but  the  strongest 
passage  was  this ;  "  Was  it  not  he,  who  reconciled  the  un- 
believers with  God,  inasmuch  as  he  taug-ht  vs  truly  to 
understand  Jesus  Christ  ?  "  f 

But  enough  on  this  subject.  Let  us  say  a  word  re- 
specting the  chapter  on  Religion,  more  particularly  on 
that  part  relating  to  theology.  Here  the  learned  au- 
thor's abhorrence  of  book-learning  is  more  conspicuous 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  259.  t  Strauss,  ubi  sup.  p.  212,  213. 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.     '  57 

than  elsewhere,  though  obvious  enough  in  all  parts  of 
the  book.  We  pass  over  the  first  part  of  the  chapter, — 
which  contains  some  very  good  things,  that  will  come 
to  light  in  spite  of  the  smart  declamations  in  which 
they  are  floating,  —  and  proceed  to  his  account  of 
Catholicism  in  Germany.*  Here,  in  a  work  on  Ger- 
man literature,  we  naturally  expect  a  picture  of  the 
Catholic  theology,  at  least  a  reference  to  the  chief 
Catholic  writers  in  this  department.  But  we  are  disap- 
pointed again.  We  find  declamations  and  anecdotes 
well  fitted  for  the  Penny  Magazine,  as  a  German  critic 
says,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  some  hints  on  this 
topic.f  He  throws  together  such  remarks  as  would 
make  excellent  and  smart  paragraphs  in  a  newspaper; 
but  gives  no  calm,  philosophical  view  of  the  subject. 
He  can  enlarge  on  the  Jesuits,  or  Jansenists,  on  the  in- 
fluence of  Kant's  and  Schelling's  philosophy,  and  the 
reaction  in  favor  of  Catholicism,  for  these  subjects  are 
in  all  mouths;  but  he  scarce  looks  at  the  great  philo- 
sophical question,  on  which  the  whole  matter  hinges. 
His  acquaintance  with  modern  Catholic  writers  seems 
to  be  as  narrow  as  his  philosophy  is  superficial.  Gun- 
ther,  Pabst,  Mohler,  Singler,  Staudenmaier,  Klee,  and 
Hermes,  have  escaped  the  sharp  glance  of  our  author.^ 
In  the  portion  of  the  chapter  which  relates  to  Protes- 
tantism, we  find  the  same  defects.  The  sketch  of  the 
history  of  theology  since  Luther  is  hasty  and  inaccu- 
rate. It  does  not  give  the  reader  a  clear  conception  of 
the  progress  of  ideas.  He  makes  some  amusing  mis- 
representations on  page  159  and  173,  to  which  we  will 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  114-139. 

f  A  writer  in  Rheinwald's  Ropertorium,  Vol.  XV.  p.  14,  seq. 

J  See  Rheinwald,  ubi  sup.  p.  16. 


58  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

only  refer.  Among  the  most  celebrated  of  German 
preachers,  since  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  he  for- 
gets to  mention  Teller,  Loffler,  ZoUikoffer,  Lavater, 
Herder,  Tzschirner,  Schmalz,  Riihr,  Zimmermann,  De 
Wette,  Marheineke,  Nitzsch,  Tholuck,  Ehrenberg, 
Strauss,  Reinhard,  Therirnin,  Couard,  Lisco,  and  many 
others  of  equal  fame.  Mosheim  is  mentioned  as  a  dis- 
tinguished writer  on  morals,  Ammon  and  Bretschneider 
are  despatched  in  a  word.  Wetstein  is  mentioned 
among  the  followers  of  Ernesti  and  Semler,  and  is  put 
after  Eichhorn,  though  he  died  only  two  years  after  the 
latter  was  born.  But  it  is  an  ungrateful  task  to  point 
out  these  defects.  Certainly  we  should  not  name  them, 
if  there  were  great  and  shining  excellences  beside. 
But  they  are  not  to  be  found.  The  chapter  gives  a  con- 
fused jumble  of  ideas,  and  not  a  true  picture.  True, 
it  contains  passages  of  great  force  and  beauty,  but 
throughout  the  whole  section,  order  and  method,  accu- 
rate knowledge  and  an  impartial  spirit,  are  grievously 
wanting.  Who  would  guess  what  great  things  had 
been  done  in  Biblical  criticism,  from  Mr.  Menzel's 
words  ?  Who  would  know  that  De  Wette  had  written 
profound  works  in  each  of  the  four  great  departments 
of  theology  ;  indeed,  that  he  wrote  any  thing  but  a 
couple  of  romances  ?  But  we  are  weary  with  this 
fault-finding.  However,  one  word  must  be  said,  by 
way  of  criticism  upon  his  standing  point  itself.  Geri- 
man  literature  is  not  to  be  surveyed  by  an  amateur 
merely.  The  dilettanti  has  no  rule  and  compasses  in  his 
pocket,  by  which  he  can  measure  all  the  objects  in  this 
German  ocean  of  books.  No  doubt,  histories  of  litera- 
ture have  hitherto  been  too  often  "written  in  the  special 
interest  of  scholastic  learning,"  and  are  antiquarian  lists 
of  books  and  not  living  histories.     It  is  certainly  Avell 


GERMAN   LITERATURE.  59 

to  write  a  history  of  literature  so  that  all  men  may 
read.  But  it  would  require  a  most  uncommon  head  to 
treat  ably  of  all  departments  of  literature  and  science. 
In  one  word,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  judge  all  by  one 
rule.  The  writer,  therefore,  must  change  his  position 
as  often  as  he  changes  the  subject.  He  must  write  of 
matters  pertaining  to  religion,  with  the  knowledge  of  a 
theologian;  on  philosophical  subjects,  like  a  philosopher, 
and  so  of  the  rest.  Any  attempt  to  describe  them  all 
from  one  point  of  sight  seems  as  absurd  as  to  reckon 
pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  and  drachms,  ounces, 
quarters,  and  tons  in  the  same  column.  A  sketch  of 
German  theological  literature  ought  to  tell  what  has 
been  done  and  what  is  now  doing  by  Protestants  and 
Catholics,  in  the  four  great  departments  of  exegetical, 
historical,  systematic,  and  practical  theology.  It  should 
put  us  in  possession  of  the  idea,  which  lies  at  the  bot- 
tom of  Catholicism  and  Protestantism,  and  tell  what 
form  this  ideal  assumes,  and  why  it  takes  this  form  and 
no  other.  But  to  this  Mr.  Menzel  makes  no  pretension. 
He  has  not  the  requisite  knowledge  for  this.  His  learn- 
ing seems  gathered  from  reviews,  newspapers,  the  con- 
versations-lexicon, literary  gossip,  and  a  very  perfunctory 
perusal  oj^  many  books.  The  whole  work  lacks  a  plan. 
There  is  no  unity  to  the  book.  It  seems  a  compilation 
of  articles,  written  hastily  in  the  newspapers,  and  de- 
signed for  immediate  effect.  So  the  spirit  of  the  parti- 
san appears  everywhere.  We  have  declamation  instead 
of  matter-of-fact  and  cool  judgment.  Still  the  work  is 
quite  entertaining.  Its  author,  no  doubt,  passes  for  a 
man  of  genius;  but  as  a  friend  says,  who  rarely  judges 
wrong,  "  he  has  more  show  than  sinew,  and  makes  up 
in  smartness  what  he  wants  in  depth."  We  are  glad 
to  welcome  the  book  in  its  English  dress,  but  we  hope 


60  GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

it  will  be  read  with  caution,  as  a  guide  not  to  be 
trusted.  Its  piquant  style,  and  "  withering  sarcasm," 
remind  us  often  of  Henry  Heine,  and  the  young  Ger- 
mans, with  whom  the  author  would  not  wish  to  be 
classed.  We  think  it  will  not  give  a  true  idea  of  the 
German  mind  and  its  workings,  to  the  mere  English 
reader,  or  aid  powerfully  the  student  of  German  to  find 
his  way  amid  that  labyrinthian  literature.  The  book 
is  very  suggestive,  if  one  will  but  follow  out  the  au- 
thor's hints,  and  avoid  his  partialities  and  extravagance. 
Professor  Felton  seems  to  have  performed  the  work 
of  translation  with  singular  fidelity.  His  version  is  un- 
commonly idiomatic  and  fresh.  It  reads  like  original 
English.  But  here  and  there  we  notice  a  slight  verbal 
inaccuracy  in  translating,  which  scarce  any  human  dili- 
gence could  avoid.*  We  regard  the  version  as  a  monu- 
ment of  diligence  and  skill.  The  metrical  translations 
are  fresh  and  spirited. 

*  It  would  have  been  a  convenience  to  the  readers,  if  it  had  been 
stated  in  the  preface,  that  the  version  was  made  from  the  second  Ger- 
man edition,  published  at  Stuttgart,  1836  ;  for  the  author  only  treats 
of  things  as  they  were  at  that  time,  or  before  it. 


III. 

THE  LIFE  OF  ST.  BERNARD  OF  CLAIRYAUX.* 


A  CHAPTER  OUT  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES. 

Saint  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  —  his  name  carries  us- 
back  to  the  depths  of  the  middle  ages.  We  connect  it, 
in  our  associations,  with  Scholastic  Theology,  and 
Mystical  Religion;  with  activity  almost  unbounded  in 
the  affairs  of  the  Church.  Austere  monks,  admiring 
women,  and  long  ranks  of  crusaders  come  up  in  our 
fancy  when  his  name  is  mentioned.  St.  Bernard  was  a 
great  man  in  his  time,  and  his  day  outlasted  several 
centuries ;  for  after  his  death  he  made  a  mark  on  the 

*  De  Melliflui  devotique  doctoris  sacti  Bernardi  Abbatis  clareval- 
lensis  cisterciesis  ordinis  opus  preclaru  suos  copletes,  sermones  de 
tempore ;  de  Sanctis ;  et  super  caiitica  canticarum.  Aliosque  plures 
ejus  sermones,  et  sentetias  nusq.  hactenus  impressas.  Ejusdem 
insuper  epistolas  ceteraque  universa  ejus  opuscula.  Domini  quoque 
Gillebcrti  Abbatis  Do.  Hoiludia  in  Anglice  prelibati  ordinis  super 
cantica  sermones.  Omnia  sm.  seriem  liic  a  sequeti  pagella  annotatam 
collocata  vigilanter  et  accurate  super  vetustissima  clarevallis  exam- 
plaria  apprime  correcta.    Jolian  Petit. 

Veniidantur  Parisiis  in  vice  divl  Jacobi  sub  Lilio  aureo  a  Johanne 
Parvo.  (Paris,  1513,  one  vol.  fol.)  —  [From  the  Christian  Examiner 
for  March,  1841]. 

6 


62  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERXARD. 

ages  as  they  passed  over  his  tomb,  and  the  church  long 
bore  the  impress  of  his  gigantic  spirit.  A  man  who 
oftener  than  once  scorned  to  be  archbishop ;  who  dic- 
tated to  kings,  and  wrote  a  manual  for  the  "  infallible 
head  of  the  church;"  who  projected  a  crusade,  uttered 
prophecies,  and  worked  miracles,  even  after  his  death, — 
so  his  biographers  affirm,  —  such  a  man  was  St.  Bernard 
in  his  day.  Such  is  he  now,  by  force  of  tradition,  in 
the  minds  of  many  a  true  Catholic.  It  has  been  said 
that  he  honored  the  year  when  he  became  immortal, 
"  and  went  to  receive  in  heaven  the  reward  of  his  illus- 
trious virtue  and  glorious  fatigues."  *  He  was  called 
in  his  own  age  and  after  it,  "  the  firm  pillar  of  the 
church,"  the  "  fellow-citizen  of  the  angels,"  the  second 
interpreter  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  second  child  of 
the  most  holy  mother  of  God.f  "  The  salutiferous 
honey  of  moral  instruction  fell  from  his  lips  and  flowed 
everywhere,"  says  a  learned  Jesuit,  writing  many  hun- 
dred years  after  his  death. J  '•  The  Bossuet  of  the* 
twelfth  century,"  his  word  shook  the  church,  and  made 
two  great  empires  rock  to  their  foundation. 

Yet  this  man  is  forgotten  in  less  than  eight  centuries 
from  his  birth.  His  books,  no  man  reads  them ;  or  only 
those  scholars  "who  have  folios  in  their  library,"  and 
graze  with  delight  amid  the  frowzy  pastures  of  old  time, 
where  the  herbage  is  thick  and  matted  together  with 
ages  of  neglect.  The  Saint  is  no  longer  appealed  to  in 
controversies ;  his  works  are  not  reprinted,  except  in 
ponderous  collections  of  the  Fa'thers,  which  the  herd  of 
scholars  stare  at  and  pass  by,  in  quest  of  new  things, 

*Muratori,  Ajinali  d'  Italia,  etc.     Tom.  vi.  p.  403,  sq. 
t-  Andres,  dell'  Origine  progress!  c  Stato  attuale  di  ogni  Lettera- 
tiira,  llomo.     1817.     Tom.  vii.  p.  219,  sq. 
t  Ibid. 


THE   LIFE   OF    ST.    BERNARD.  63 

wondering  at  the  barbarism  that  could  write,  and  the 
stupidity  that  can  still  read  such  works.  But  Bernard 
is  eclipsed  only  because  brighter  lights  have  gone  into 
the  sky.  We  are  struck  with  the  wealth  of  thougiit 
there  is  in  the  world,  when  we  read,  on  the  pages  of  the 
nations,  those  names  which  Genius  and  Virtue  have 
consecrated  and  forbid  to  die.  But  the  world's  richness 
seems  still  greater,  when  men,  like  this  mighty  Bernard, 
are  not  deemed  worth  remembering.  But  if  he  is  thus 
quickly  forgot,  who  of  modern  great  men  can  stand? 
What  existing  reputation  shall  not  be  blcfvvn  away  as 
chaff,  before  the  mystic  fan  of  time  ? 

Saint  Bernard  belongs  to  that  long  list  of  middle-age 
scholars,  on  whom  the  world  has  passed  the  bitter  doom 
of  forgetfulness  and  night.  We  would  gladly  rescue 
much  that  it  consigns  to  oblivion  ;  but  its  decree  is  irre- 
versible, and  there  is  no  higher  court  of  appeal,  save  only 
"  the  pure  eyes  and  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove." 
The  works  of  these  men  stand  in  old  libraries,  and  fill 
goodly  presses  with  forgotten  folios.  Their  ribbed 
backs,  their  antiquated  dress,  eaten  with  worms  and 
covered  with  dust  as  many  generations  have  passed 
by,— T dust  which  no  antiquarian  finger  has  disturbed, — 
these  things  frighten  the  loose-girt  student,  and  he  turns 
away  to  read  the,  novels  of  Bulwer  and  Scott,  or  laugh 
at  the  illustrations  of  La  Fontaine's  fables.  Should  he 
open  the  venerable  tome,  the  barbarism  of  the  print ;  the 
contractions  unnumbered,  which  defile  its  thousand  fo- 
lio pages ;  the  uncouth  phraseology ;  the  strange  sub- 
jects which  it  treats ;  the  scholastic  terms  ;  the  distinc- 
tions without  a  difference,  —  all  these  repel  the  modern 
student.  The  gaunt  shadow  of  the  monk,  its  author, 
seems  to  rise  from  its  coffin,  and  staring  at  the  literary 
gentleman,  to  say,  "  Why  hast  thou  disturbed  my  re- 


64  THE   LIFE    OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

pose,  and  brought  me  to  the  day  once  more  ?  Break 
not  again  my  mystic  dream."  These  are  the  authors 
before  whom  Indlistry  folds  her  hands,  and  gives  up 
the  task  ;  from  whom  Diligence,  with  his  frame  of  iron 
and  his  eye  of  fire,  turns  away,  dispirited  and  worn 
down.  Yet  were  these  men  lights  in  their  day.  They 
shed  their  lustre  over  many  a  land.  The  shadows  they 
cast,  fall  still  on  us.  Mankind  looked  hopeful  as  their 
light  arose,  and  saw  it  sink,  doubting  that  another 
would  ever  arise  and  equal  it. 

What  a  different  spirit  pervades  the  men  of  those 
ages  we  call  dark,  —  not  dreaming  that  our  age,  —  the 
nineteenth  century  itself,  —  shall  likewise  one  day  be 
called  by  the  same  name.  Their  spirit  is  not  classic, 
and  it  is  not  modern.  You  come  down  from  Plato  to 
St.  Bernard,  for  example,  and  feel  that  you  have  made 
a  descent.  The  high  ideal  of  mortal  life  does  not  float 
before  the  eyes  of  the  saint  as  before  that  gi-eat-hearted 
pagan.  The  character  of  these  writings  is  unique. 
They  have  not  the  majestic  tranquillity  of  the  Greek 
literature,  nor  the  tempestuous  movement  of  modern 
works.  Here  worship  takes  the  place  of  passion,  and 
contemplation  is  preferred  before  action.  Their  ideal 
life  would  be  wretchedness  to  an  American,  and  Tarta- 
rus itself  to  a  Greek,  for  fast  and  vigils  are  thought  bet- 
ter than  alms-deeds  and  daily  duty.  The  senses  are 
looked  upon  as  legitimate  inlets  of  pain,  and  pain  only. 
What  austerity  of  discipline, —  to  which  the  wars  of 
antiquity,  and  the  commercial  enterprises  of  our  day 
were  pastime;  what  watching;  what  fast  and  prayer; 
what  visions  and  revelations,  —  the  natural  result  of 
their  life,  —  conspired  to  form  these  stout  spirits. 

You  turn  from  the  bustling  literature  of  the  nine- 
tecntli  century  to  the  works  of  Bernard,  and  the  change 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    EERNARD.  65 

of  atmosphere  is  remarkable.  Yoa  feel  it  in  every  limb. 
It  is  as  if  you  stepped  at  once  from  the  hot  plains  of 
Ethiopia  to  the  very  summit  of  the  Mountains  of  the 
Moon.  Or  better,  as  if  you  were  transferred  in  a  mo- 
ment from  the  feverish  heat  of  an  August  noon,  to  the 
cool  majesty  of  an  April  night,  when  there  was  frost  in 
the  air,  and  a  rawness  in  the  occasional  gusts  of  wind, 
come  from  what  quarter  they  would ;  when  clouds 
of  grotesque  shape  and  threatening  darkness  mingled 
capriciously  with  the  uncertain  shining  of  the  moon, 
and  the  mysterious  twinkle  of  the  stars ;  when  you  were 
uncertain  what  weather  had  preceded  or  what  would 
follow,  but  knew  that  a  storm  was  not  far  off,  it  might 
have  been,  or  might  yet  come,  for  all  was,^orgamc  and 
not  settled.  The  difference  between  this  and  the  spirit 
of  Greek  literature,  is  the  difference  between  a  forest,  with 
its  underbrush  and  winding  paths,  leading  no  one  knows 
whither, —  a  forest  full  of  shadows  and  wild  beasts, — 
and  a  trim  garden  of  great  and  beautiful  trees,  reared 
with  art,  planted  by  science,  and  <arranged  with  most 
exquisite  taste, — a  garden  wiiere  flowers  bloomed  out 
their  fragrant  life,  fruits  ripened  on  the  stem,  and  little 
birds  sang  their  summer  carol,  to  complete  the  harmony 
of  the  scene. 

In  the  days  of  Bernard,  a  saint  was  a  popular  char- 
acter ;  the  great  man  of  a  kingdom.  Men  went  in 
crowds  to  see  him.  Women  threw  garlands  on  him  as 
he  passed,  and  branches  were  spread  in  his  way.  Rude 
peasants  and  crowned  kings  begged  for  his  blessing, 
though  it  were  but  a  mere  wave  of  his  hand.  But  we 
have  changed  all  that,  and  more  wisely  confer  them  and 
the  like  honors  on  men  in  epaulets,  and  dancing  girls.  It 
is  nature's  law  to  pay  men  in  kind.  It  may  be  surprising 
to  our  readers,  but  it  is  still  true,  that  Saint  Bernard, 

6* 


66  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

though  lean  as  a  skeleton  almost,  was  received  with  as 
much  eclat  wherever  he  chanced  to  go,  as  the  most 
ipopular  modern  statesman,  or  electioneering  orator. 
Nay  more,  men  made  long  pilgrimages  to  see  him ; 
they  laid  the  sick,  that  they  might  be  healed,  in  the 
streets  where  he  walked,  or  beneath  the  windows  of  the 
house  in  which  he  chanced  to  pass  the  night,  and  the 
sick  were  cured,  at  least  his  three  monkish  and  con- 
temporary biographers  credited  the  miracle.  Rebellious 
Dukes,  and  a  refractory  Emperor  were  subservient  to 
his  will,  and  when  at  high  mass  he  elevated  the  host, 
the  stoutest  of  heart  fell  on  his  knees,  and  forgot  his 
rebellion,  becoming  like  a  little  child.  The  bold  deniers 
of  the  church's  authority,  —  bold  even  then,  when  it  was 
dangerous  to  be  bold,  —  shrunk  from  the  grasp  of  this 
nervous  athlete  of  the  faith.  Peter  of  Bruis,  Henry  of 
Lausanne,  Gilbert  of  Poictiers,  even  Abelard  himself, 
with  his  net  of  subtle  dialectics,  fine-meshed  as  woven 
wind,  gave  up  at  last  to  him.  He  uttered  prophecies 
which  time  has  not  yet  seen  fit  to  fulfil,  though  the  good 
Catholic,  no  doubt,  hopes  they  will  yet  come  to  pass. 
In  what  follows,  we  shall  rely  chiefly  on  the  lives  of  this 
great  man,  which  were  written  by  several  of  his  contem- 
poraries. 

Saint  Bernard  was  born  at  Fontaines,  in  Burgundy, 
not  far  from  Dijon,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1091,  His 
father,  Trecelin,  a  knight  of  an  ancient  family  of  consid- 
erable fortune,  spent  most  of  his  life  in  arms,  taking 
little  pains  about  the  education  of  his  children.  This 
duty  fell  to  the  lot  of  his  pious  and  intelligent  wife, 
Alcth,  the  daughter  of  Count  jNIontbart,  who  discharged 
it  with  most  exemplary  fidelity.  In  old  times,  we  are 
told,  iJKit  supernatural  signs  preceded  the  birth  of  men 
predestined  to  eminence,  and  swarms  of  bees,  or  flocks 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  67 

of  birds,  or  sheep  with  one  horn  in  the  middle  of  the 
forehead,  foretold  the  character  and  prowess  of  the  babe 
unborn,  so  that  when  he  came  into  the  world,  he  had 
nothing  to  do  but  realize  the  augury.  The  monkish 
historian,  Abbot  William  of  St.  Thierry,*  relates  similar 
things  of  Bernard.  To  Aleth,  as  to  Hecuba,  was  fore- 
told the  character  of  her  son,  with  the  same  clearness  in 
both  cases.  Aleth,  before  the  birth  of  her  child,  dreamed 
of  a  dog,  "  white  all  over,  but  somewhat  reddish  on  the 
back,''  and  in  her  dream  the  dog  barked,  as  dogs  often 
do.  Terrified  at  this  prodigy,  she  sought  ghostly  coun- 
sel of  a  certain  religious  man.  He,  remembering  that 
King  David  wished  "  that  tJie_tongue_of  J^^og;s  jpay  /^ 
be  dipped  in  the  blood  of  the  enemy,"  and  being  "filled 
with  the  spirit  of  prophecy,"  foretold  that  the  child  about 
to  be  born  should  bark  loud  and  long  at  the  enemies  of  the 
church.  He  should  be  an  excellent  preacher  of  the  Avord, 
and  his  tongue  should  have  a  medicinal  savor  and  cure 
diseases  of  the  soul.  The  mother  was  comforted  by 
this  interpretation,  which  coming  events  very  kindly 
fulfilled,  and  proved  he  could  not  only  bark  but  bite  also. 
Aleth,  'the  mother  of  Bernard,  and  of  five  other  sons 
and  one  daughter,  was  a  religious  woman,  as  religious 
was  then  understood.  She  declined  the  splendors  which 
usually  belonged  to  her  wealth  and  station  ;  lived  almost 
a  monastic  life  of  prayer,  fasting,  and  self-mortification. 
She  early  dedicated  her  child  to  a  monastic  life,  and 
accordingly  gave  him  an  education  suited  to  his  destiny. 
He  received  some  instruction  in  the  church  at  Chatillon. 
His  contemporary  and  friend,  the  above-named  William, 
relates  that  in  study  he  far  surpassed  his  fellow  students, 


*  Vita  S.  Bernardi  Abbati,  Lib.  I.  C.  1-3.   Prefixed  to  Bernard's 
Works. 


68  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

but  began  his  mortification  of  the  flesh,  also,  at  the 
same  time.  Even  in  his  youth,  he  gave  signs  of  the 
excellent  virtue  that  was  in  him,  and  by  his  remarkable 
greatness  of  soul  foreshowed  what  he  was  one  day  to 
become.  Once  he  was  violently  afflicted  with  a  head- 
ache, and  "  a  sorry  little  woman  was  called  in  to  cure 
him  by  the  magic  of  songs.  But  soon  as  she  came  in 
with  the  implements  of  her  art,  which  she  used  to  de- 
lude the  superstitious,  he  cried  out  against  her  with 
great  indignation,  and  ordered  the  witch  out  of  the 
house.  He  felt  that  virtue  had  come  into  him,  and  rising 
in  the  strength  of  the  spirit,  found  himself  free  from  all 
pain."  This  is  looked  on  as  one  of  his  earliest  miracles. 
Exceeding  grace  was  given  to  the  youth  even  in  his 
tender  years.  "  The  Lord  appeared  to  him,  as*  to  Sam- 
uel at  Shiloh,  and  manifested  his  glory."  This  took 
place  on  Christmas  night,  as  he  sat  waiting  the  event, 
between  sleeping  and  waking.  "Jesus  appeared  to  him, 
like  a  bridegroom  coming  out  of  his  chamber,"  and  then 
took  the  form  of  the  word  just  incarnated  in  the  new- 
born babe,  "  beautiful  above  the  sons  of  men."  After 
this,  as  he  grew  up  and  "  increased  in  favor  with  God 
and  man,"  the  great  Enemy  spread  in  vain  the  witchery 
of  his  most  enticing  nets,  and  the  serpent  lay  in  wait  to 
sting  liis  heel.  On  one  occasion,  he  was  so  sorely 
pressed  by  the  same  temptation  that  overcame  even  St. 
Anthony,  and  has  been  thought  irresistible,  that  he 
could  find  no  relief,  except  by  jumping  into  a  pond  of 
exceedingly  cold  water  up  to  his  ears.  Here  he  remained 
until  similar  temptations  lost  all  their  power,  and  he  lost 
nearly  liis  life.  But  by  "  virtue  of  divine  grace  "  he  was, 
ever  after,  "  ice  all  over "  to  such  allurements.  Those 
who  are  curious  in  such  matters  may  see,  in  the  good 
monk's  biography,  how  variously  he  was  tempted  by 


THE   LIFE    OF   ST.   BERNARD.  69 

this  Protean  Devil,  transforming  himself  into  an  angel 
of  light,  and  how  he  yet  kept  whole, as  a  salamander  in  a 
Brazier's  fire.  While  a  school-boy  in  the  world,  he  be- 
came  a  soldier  of  Christ,  and  had  "  visions  and  revela- 
tions of  the  Lord."  Bernard  lost  his  mother  at  an  early 
age,  and  then  his  youthful  companions  sought  to  seduce 
him  from  his  pious  vow,  and  lead  him  away  to  their 
life  of  violence,  and  riot,  and  bloodshed. 

In  this  period  of  the  middle  ages,  the  line  of  distinc- 
tion between  noble  and  ignoble  blood  was  drawn  with 
peculiar  sharpness,  as  feudal  society  is  based  on  birth 
and  birth  only.  For  the  ignoble  there  was  open  the 
common  lot  of  the  poor  and  despised.  They  served  to 
flesh  the  swords  of  the  nobles ;  to  fight  in  their  wars, 
with  the  certainty  of  loss  to  themselves,  whether  con- 
quering or  conquered.  Slaves  they  were,  to  till  the  soil 
for  their  masters,  to  build  castles  and  churches,  at  this 
day  the  proud  monuments  of  gothic  and  feudal  gran- 
deur. Men's  heads  were  made  to  think,  but  theirs  to 
bear  burdens.  They  were  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers 
of  water  for  their  superiors,  who  should  have  borne  their 
sorrows  and  upheld  them  when  they  fell.  God  gives  to 
a  few  more  excellent  gifts  of  mind,  or  body,  or  social 
position,  or  wealth,  not  that  they  may  thereby  oppress 
their  brethren,  but  that  they  may  comfort  and  bless 
them.  There  are  but  two  scales  in  the  balance  of  so- 
ciety, the  Rulers  and  the  Ruled.  As  the  one  rises,  the 
other  falls.  In  that  age  the  world  was  far  less  rich  in 
the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life,  than  it  is  now. 
Therefore  when  we  admire  at  the  ruler's  scale  so  well 
loaded,  we  are  to  remember  also  the  empty  scale  of  the 
poor,  who  could  not  tell  their  tale  to  other  times,  except 
by  implication.     When  we  admire  the  possessions  of 


70  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.   BERNARD. 

the  powerful,  the  castles  and  cathedrals  of  those  days, 
it  may  be  profitable  to  remember,  how  wretched  were 
the  cabins  in  which  the  builders  slept,  and  with  what 
reluctant  and  compulsory  toil,  with  what  privation, 
hunger,  and  wretchedness  this  magnificence  must  have 
been  bought.  The  desires  of  the  rich  were  fed  with 
the  bread  of  the  poor.  Men  were  left  naked  and  com- 
fortless, that  grandeur  might  pile  up  its  marble  and 
mortar.  The  needy  asked  bread,  and  literally  a  stone 
was  given  them.  The  name  of  a  tyrant  who  harried  a 
province,  and  whose  character  was  well  imaged  by 
the  ferocious  beasts  he  bore  on  his  scutcheon,  comes 
down  to  our  times  coupled  with  the  epithet  of  Pious, 
or  Gentle,  because,  forsooth,  he  built  a  church,  or  en- 
dowed a  convent,  with  the  fragments  of  rapacity  that 
fell  from  his  table ;  while  the  men,  who  paid  for  it  all 
with  pain  and  toil  and  bloody  sweat,  lie  forgotten  in  the 
ditches  and  fens  where  they  labored  and  died.  At  that 
time  the  Christian  maxim,  "  we  that  are  strong  ought 
to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,"  —  a  maxim  which 
meant  something  to  Paul  and  Jesus,  as  their  lives 
attest,  —  was  regarded  far  less  than  even  now.  Such 
was  the  simple  lot  of  the  low-born  and  poor;  their 
"  puddle-blood  "  flowed  at  the  mercy  of  each  noble  of 
haughty  head  and  rapacious  hand.  But  their  prayers 
and  the  cry  of  their  blood  went  up  to  the  God  of  jus- 
tice, who  answered  in  the  peasant  wars,  and  similar 
convulsions,  from  the  twelfth  century  to  the  nineteenth. 
Such  was  their  lot,  a  life  of  subjection,  hardships,  and 
bondage. 

But  for  the  other  and  less  numerous  class,  two  arenas 
were  open,  the  World  and  the  Church.  There  seems 
to  have  been  no  middle  ground  between  the  life  of  a 
Nobleman  and  that  of  an  Ecclesiastic.     Fortune  met 


THE   LIFE   OF   ST.   BERNARD.  71 

well-born  men  at  their  entrance  into  being,  and  said, 
"  choose  which  you  will,  the  Church  or  the  World.  ,  I 
have  no  other  alternative."  The  life  of  an  Ecclesiastic, 
and  the  life  of  a  Noble ;  the  cloister  and  the  camp,  what 
a  world  lies  between  them !  On  the  one  side,  celibacy, 
fasting,  and  poverty,  and  prayer;*  on  the  other,  riot, 
debauchery,  wealth,  and  sin  in  general.  Ambition 
pointed,  and  perhaps  equally  to  both,  for  the  Cardinal 
was  often  greater  than  the  King,  and  the  Pope  was 
second  only  to  the  Almighty.  Every  lawyer  in  Eng- 
land, it  is  said,  hopes  one  day  to  be  Lord  Chancellor,  or 
at  least  Judge ;  and  so,  perhaps,  every  priest  in  the 
twelfth  century  hoped  to  be  Pope,  Cardinal,  or  Bishop 
at  the  very  least.  So  young  men,  of  the  noblest  fam- 
ilies rushed  into  convents,  just  as  others  rushed  into 
camps.  To  the  lasting  praise  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
be  it  said,  that  she  knew  nothing  of  difference  between 

*  It  may  be  said  celibacy  was  not  universal  at  this  time  among  the 
clergy,  and  it  is  certain  the  laws  of  that  period  are  conflicting  on  this 
point.  In  some  countries,  as  Hungary  and  Ireland,  great  freedom 
prevailed  in  this  respect.  Priests  and  Deacons,  even  Bishops,  had 
their  wives.  At  the  council  of  Gran,  1114,  a  singular  decree  was 
passed.  "Presbyteris  uxores  —  runs  the  original  —  quas  legitimis 
ordinibus  accesserint,  moderatius  habendas,  praevisa  fragilitate,  indul- 
simus."  Synod  Strigonicus.  C.  xxxi.  p.  57,  cited  in  Schroeekh's 
Kirchengeschichte,  Vol.  xxvii.  p.  203.  (Leipzig,  1798.)  But  Bernard 
complains  bitterly  that  men  with  wives, —  viri  uxorati,  —  had  got  into 
the  church.  Even  the  Hungarian  clergy  gradually  lost  their  freedom. 
Yet  in  1273,  Bishop  Henry  of  Liittich  had  fourteen  children  born  in 
a  little  less  than  two  years.  See  in  Schroeckh,  1.  c.  the  gradual  pro- 
gress of  celibacy  in  the  church.  But  out  of  this  partial  evil  there 
grew  a  general  benefit.  When  there  was  no  legitimate  heir,  there 
could  be  no  spiritual  aristocracy  growing  up  to  usurp  dominion  over 
the  church,  as  the  nobles  had  done  over  the  State.  "  The  wrath  of 
man  shall  praise  thee,"  says  the  Psalmist,  "  and  the  remnant  of  wrath 
thou  wilt  restrain." 


72  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.   BERNARD. 

rich  and  poor;  at  least,  nothing  in  theory,  though  rich 
men  daily  bought  and  sold  benefices,  and  that  without 
concealment  in  the  Pope's  court.  The  Church  was  the 
last  bulwark  of  Humanity  in  the  dark  ages.  She  kept 
in  awe  the  rude  barons  and  barbarous  kings,  and  nestled 
the  poor  and  forsaken  comfortably  in  her  bosom.  In 
her  eyes  every  one  born  at  all  was  well-born.  Hence  we 
find  a  cobbler  in  the  chair  of  St.  Peter,  and  that  cobbler 
Gregory  the  Seventh,  of  whom  all  Europe  stood  in  awe. 
The  Church,  thus  opening  for  the  poor  the  road  to  wis- 
dom and  power,  unconsciously  bettered  their  condition 
at  large.  For  bishops,  cardinals,  and  popes,  elevated 
from  the  servile  class,  —  having  no  legitimate  issue  to 
provide  for,  or  enrich  with  power  and  place  transmitted 
to  them,  —  felt  strongly  the  natural,  instinctive  love  of 
their  native  class,  and  watched  over  it  with  a  jealous 
care.  The  history  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  and  his  sover- 
eign, is  a  striking  instance  of  this  kind,  where  each 
represents  a  class. 

The  church  and  the  camp  were  the  two  fields  open  be- 
fore the  wealthy  and  well-born.  But  in  Bernard's  time, 
a  new  and  distinct  arena  was  also  opened  ;  that  of 
letters.  A  great  enthusiasm  for  literature  and  philoso- 
phy sprang  up  in  the  eleventh  century,  as  the  world  be- 
gan to  awake  from  its  long  sleep,  and  rub  its  drowsy 
eyes.  Its  starting  point  was  the  ancient  philosophy, 
and  the  Organum  of  Boethius.  In  the  twelfth  century, 
the  brilliant  success  of  Abelard  was  both  a  cause  and 
an  effect  of  the  new  movement*  With  him  the  scho- 
lastic philosophy  began,  as  M.  Cousin  thinks. 


*  On  the  number  of  Abelard's  pupils,  and  his  influence,  sec  Ouv- 
rages  inedites  d*  Abelard,  etc.;  par  M.  Victor  Cousin.  Paris,  1836. 
Introduction^  p.  ii.  seq. 


THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD.  73 

After  Bernard's  companions  found  the  camp  had  no 
charms  "  to  shake  the  settled  purpose  of  his  soul,"  they 
tried  him  with  the  life  of  letters,  in  which  his  bright 
spirit  found  activity  and  joy.  But  this  attempt  also  was 
fruitless.  The  image  of  his  mother  soared  above  him, 
and  forbade  the  unholy  life.  His  lively  fancy  brought 
her  from  the  grave,  in  visions,  and  in  his  waking  hours; 
she  reminded  him  of  her  past  example,  and  seemed  to 
chide  him  for  his  faltering  faith.  Once,  as  he  was 
travelling  alone,  to  see  his  brothers  in  the  Burgundian 
camp  at  Grancy,  this  thought  came  over  him,  and:  the 
image  of  his  mother  filled  his  soul.  He  turned  aside- 
into  a  church  to  pray  for  strength  to  keep  his  resolve 
and  be  a  monk.  His  prayer  was  granted.  A  voice  said 
to  him.  Qui  audit  dicat  "  Veni."  After  this  the  diffi- 
culty was  all  over.  He  persuaded  others  to  follow  his 
example.  Among  these  were  his  uncle  Galdric,  a  rich 
and  celebrated  man,  and  some  of  his  own  brothers. 
But  Guido,  his  oldest  brother,  mocked  at  Bernard's 
resolution,  and  called  it  frivolous.  Guido,  a  distin- 
guished man,  bound  by  wedlock,  and  more  strongly 
rooted  in  the  world  than  the  others,  stoutly  refused  the 
monastic  life,  when  urged  by  the  young  enthusiast  to 
accept  it.  Well  he  might  shudder  at  the  thought,  for 
his  married  life  seems  to  have  been  happy,  and  the 
change  proposed  involved  a  separation  from  his  wife 
and  children,  and  imprisonment,  —  such  it  really  was, — 
amid  monks  as  cheerless  and  stupid  as  they  were  super- 
stitious. "  Yet,"  says  Abbot  William,  "  at  first  hesitat- 
ing, but  weighing  the  matter  continually,  and  thinking 
it  over  and  over,  he  consented  to  the  change,  on  condi- 
tion that  his  wife  were  willing.  But  this  contingency 
seemed  scarcely  possible  to  a  young  woman  of  noble 
birth,  the  mother  of  several  daughters,  at  that  time  of 

7 


74  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

tender  age."  But  Bernard,  nothing  daunted  at  the 
difRculty,  tenderly  promised  Guido  that  "  his  wife  would 
soon  consent,  or  die."  To  bring  about  one  of  these 
pleasant  alternatives,  "  the  Lord  gave  the  husband  this 
manly  counsel,  that  he  should  abjure  all  he  seemed  to 
have  in  the  world,  lead  a  rustic  life,  earning  with  his 
own  hands  the  subsistence  of  himself  and  wife,  whom 
it  was  not  lawful  for  him  to  divorce  against  her  will." 
This  ingenious  counsel,  so  pleasantly  attributed  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  succeeded  like  a  charm.  The  wife  very 
naturally  fell  sick,  and  remembering  the  prediction,  and 
finding  "  how  hard  it  was  to  kick  against  the  pricks," 
begged  Bernard's  forgiveness,  and  promised  all  that  he 
required  of  her.  Accordingly  she  was  separated  from 
her  husband,  and  took  the  usual  conventual  vow,  which 
she  kept  "  until  this  day,"  says  the  Abbot,  for  he  wrote 
while  she  and  Bernard  were  both  still  living. 

The  other  brother,  Gerhard,  still  held  out,  "  and  loved 
the  world."  "  Nothing  but  suffering  will  ever  convince 
you,"  said  Bernard.  "  But  the  day  is  coming,"  con- 
tinued he,  putting  his  finger  on  his  brother's  side,  "and 
it  comes  quickly,  when  the  lance  plunged  in  your  breast, 
shall  open  to  your  heart  a  way  for  my  counsels,  which 
now  you  despise."  "  No  sooner  said  than  done,"  pro- 
ceeds the  biographer,  "for  after  a  few  days,  he  was 
wounded  in  just  the  spot  marked  by  the  priestly  finger, 
and  taken  prisoner  besides."  Then,  fearing  death,  he 
exclaimed,  "  I  am  a  monk,  a  Cistercian  monk."  Bernard 
was  sent  for  to  comfort  him  in  prison.  But  he  refused 
lo  go,  saying,  he  "  knew  all  this  before,  and  the  wound 
was  not  unto  death,  but  unto  life."  And  "  it  was  even 
so,"  for,  contrary  to  expectation,  the  wound  healed  of  a 
sudden.  However,  he  was  still  a  captive,  and  kept 
closely  in  ward.     But  one  day,  as  he  grew  continually 


THE   LIFE    OF   ST.    BERNARD.  75 

more  and  more  desirous  of  the  monastic  life,  he  heard 
a  voice  more  than  mortal,  as  he  lay  wakeful  in  his  dun- 
geon, saying  to  him,  "  This  day  shalt  thou  be  set  free," 
and  about  nightfall,  by  accident  as  it  were,  he  felt  of  his 
chains,  and  they  fell  off  his  hands  with  a  heavy  clank ; 
still  the  door  was  shut,  and  a  crowd  of  beggars  stood 
before  it,  not  to  mention  the  guards.  But  the  bar  fell 
back,  and  the  door  opened  at  his  approach.  The  beg- 
gars, astonished  at  the  prodigy,  fled  without  speaking. 
It  was  the  hour  of  evening  prayers  when  he  drew  nigh 
the  church,  walking  slowly,  for  some  of  the  chains  still 
clung  to  him.  Bernard  espied  his  brother,  and  said : 
"  Brother  Gerhard,  have  you  come  ?  There  is  still 
something  left  that  you  may  hear."  But  "  his  eyes 
were  holden,  so  that  he  did  not  know  what  was  going 
on,"  until  Bernard  led  him  into  the  church.  "  Thus  was 
he  freed  from  captivity  and  love  of  the  world." 

After  this,  Bernard  "  went  to  and  fro  upon  the  earth, 
and  walked  up  and  down  in  it,"  seeking  to  bring  souls 
into  the  monastic  fold.  '  He  compelled  many  to  come 
in.  His  word  was  so  taking,  his  eloquence  so  persua- 
sive, —  for  he  knew  the  way  equally  to  the  heart  of  the 
clown  and  the  courtier,  —  that  when  he  was  to  preach 
in  public  or  private,  wise  "  mothers  shut  up  their  sons 
at  home ;  wives  kept  back  their  husbands  from  hearings 
for  the  Holy  Ghost  gave  such  voice  and  power  to  his 
words,  that  scarce  any  tie  could  restrain  those  who 
listened."  All  whom  he  •converted  were  like  the  first 
Christians,  "  of  one  heart  and  one  mind."  * 

*  The  monastic  life  was  then  held  in  very  high  esteem.  Bernard 
calls  it  "  a  second  baptism  ; "  "  it  renders  its  professors  like  the  angels, 
and  unlike  men."  It  could  wash  out  the  deepest  sins.  See  Neander's 
Heilige  Bernhard  und  sein  Zeitalter,  etc.  Berlin,  1813,  p.  1,  42, 
note  2.     But  he  mentions  Norbert  advisinji  Count  Theobald  of  Cham- 


76  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

His  biographer  gives  a  glowing  account  of  his 
noviciate,  and  holds  him  up  as  an  ideal  of  austerity, 
to  be  looked  up  to  and  imitated  by  all  tyros  in  the  con- 
vents. He  not  only  resisted  the  desire  of  the  senses, 
but  turned  the  senses  themselves  out  of  doors.  "  When, 
with  the  interior  sense,  he  began  to  feel  the  sweetness 
of  divine  love  breathe  gently  over  him,  he  feared  lest  the 
secret  sense  within  should  be  darkened  by  the  senses 
from  without,  so  he  scarce  gave  them  enough  to  keep 
them  in  being.  The  '  breathings  of  divine  love  '  were 
at  first  but  a  momentary  impression,  but  soon  became 
a  constant  habit,  and  the  habit  at  length,  nature  itself." 
"  Absorbed  entirely  in  the  Spirit,  all  his  hopes  directed 
inward  to  God,  his  mind  entirely  occupied  with  spiritual 
meditation,  seeing,  he  saw  not;  hearing,  he  heard  not; 
eating,  he  tasted  not ;  and  scarce  felt  any  thing  with  the 
corporeal  sense.  After  passing  a  year  in  the  noviciate's 
cell,  he  hardly  knew  when  he  -went  out  whether  it  had 
a  roof  or  not."  This  was  deemed  the  perfection  of  a 
monk's  life.  He  ate  only  to  sustain  the  body,  and 
knew  not  whether  he  fed  on  bread  or  stones,  or  whether 
his  drink  was  water  or  wine.  "  He  went  to  his  dinner 
as  to  the  rack."  Nemesis  never  sleeps  even  in  a  monk's 
cell,  so  nature  took  sweet  revenge,  and  racked  him  all 
his  life  long  in  every  limb  of  his  attenuated  frame. 
However,  he  did  two  good  things,  and  that  daily.  He 
worked  hard  with  his  hands,  and  walked  in  the  woods, 
where  he  used  afterwards  to  'confess  he  found  his  best 
thoughts,  and  had  no  teachers  but  the  birch  trees  and 
the  oaks.  "  Trust  my  experience,"  he  subsequently 
wrote   to    Henry  of   Murdoch,  a  celebrated  teacher  of 

pagne  not  to  become  a  monk,  because  he  was  already  so  useful  to  the 
poor  and  downtrodden. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  77 

speculative  theology,  "  thou  wilt  find  in  the  woods 
somewhat  more  than  in  books  ;  wood  and  stone  shall 
teach  thee  what  thou  canst  not  learn  from  masters."  * 
The  cheerful,  though  serious  countenance  of  Nature, 
we  should  fancy,  might  shame  even  a  monk  into  a 
rational  life  ;  but  man  outgroW'S  nothing  so  reluctantly 
as  the  religious  prejudice  of  his  times,  and  it  is  given 
to  but  few  to  take  a  single  step  in  advance  of  their  age. 
But  one  day,  w^hile  exhausted  with  very  slight  labor  in 
reaping,  Bernard  felt  a  natural  shame  at  the  artificial 
w^eakness  of  his  body;  he  turned  aside,  and  "besought 
the  Lord  for  strength,"  which  was  given,  miraculously, 
as  the  Abbot  thinks,  and  he  reaped  before  them  all. 

On  entering  the  monastic  state,  he  had  not  chosen,  as 
many  did,  a  cloister,  where  the  buxom  ascetics  revelled 
in  every  thing  but  self-mortification.  He  chose  the  clois- 
ter at  Citeaux,  a  wild  quarter  of  the  bishopric  of 
Chalons  surla  Saone.  The  number  of  monks  increased 
so  rapidly,  through  his  efforts  and  austere  reputation, 
that  the  buildings  of  the  establishment  required  to  be 
enlarged,  and  new  ones  erected.  A  new  cloister,  also, 
was  established  in  another  place.  This  was  the  cele- 
brated cloister  of  Clairvaux,  a  wild  desolate  glen, 
formerly  named  the  Valley  of  Wormwood,f  on  account 
of  a  den  of  robbers  in  it,  as  some  say  ;  but  after  the 

*Boulau,  Hist.  Universltatis  Parjsiensis,  torn.  II.  p.  162,  cited  in 
Neander,  1.  c.  p.  45.  * 

f  Nicolaus  Hacqueville  thus  poetically  celebrates  the  charms  of  the 
place :  — 

Abdita  vallis  erat,  niediis  in  montibns,  alto 
Et  nemore.  et  viridi  tunc  adoperta  rubo, 
Hanc  claram  vullem  merito  dixere  priores, 
Mutarunt  nomen  vallis  amara  tuum,  etc. 

De  Laudibus  Bernardi,  prefi.xed  to  his  Avorks,  fol.  24,  1,  of  this 
edition. 

7* 


78  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

cloister  was  built,  it  was  called   Clairvaux,  —  the  fair 
valley.    In  three  years  from  its  foundation,  Bernard  was 
appointed  Abbot  of    Clairvaux,  and   ordained  to  that 
•  office  by  the  famous  William  de  Champeaux,  whose 
: skill  in  dialectics  took  nothing  from  the  jolly  roundness 
of  his  face.     The  spectators  laughed,  or  admired,  at  the 
contrast  between  the  bishop  and  the  monk.    Established 
in  his  new  office,  his  example  animated  the  whole  clois- 
ter.    "  You  might  see  there  a  weak  and  languid  man, 
solicitous  for  all,  but  careless  of  himself;  obedient  to 
all  in  all  things,  but  scarce  doing  any  thing  for  himself. 
Not  deeming  his  own  concerns  of  prior  importance  to 
others,  he  strove  chiefly  to  avoid  sparing  his  own  body. 
So    he   made    his  spiritual  studies  the  more   rigorous. 
His  body,  attenuated  by  various  infirmities,  was  still 
more  worn  down  by  fast  and  watching  without  inter- 
mission.     He  prayed  standing  day  and  night,  till  his 
knees,  weakened  by  fasting,  and  his  feet  swollen  with 
extreme  toil,  refused  to  sustain  his  body.     For  a  long 
time,  in  secrecy  he  wore  sackcloth  next  his  skin,  but 
when  the  fact  was  accidentally  discovered  he  cast  it  off, 
and    returned    to    his    common    dress.     His    food    was 
bread  and  milk ;  water  in  which  pulse  had  been  boiled, 
or  such  thin   water  gruel  as  men  make  for  little  chil- 
dren." *     Physicians  who  saw  him  and  listened  to  his 
eloquence,  wondered  at  the  strength  in  his  emaciated 
frame,  as  much  as  if  they  had  seen  a  lamb  drawing  the 
plough. 

The  monkish  admirer  relates  that  Gerhard  was  a  sort 
of  butler  in  the  establishment,  and  as  winter  began  to  set 
in,  he  naturally,  in  the  way  of  his  vocation,  complained 
of  the  sk'uder  provision,  both  in   money  and  victuals, 


*  Vita,  S.  Bernardi,  1.  c.  i.  c.  viii. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  79 

laid  in  for  the  season.  To  this  complaint  Bernard 
returned  no  reply.  But  being  told,  that  no  less  a  sum 
than  eleven  pounds  was  absolutely  needed,  and  that  for 
the  present  emergency,  he  sent  away  his  brother  and 
betook  himself  to  prayer.  While  at  his  devotion  a 
messenger  arrived,  and  said  that  a  woman  stood  at  the 
gate,  asking  to  see  him.  She  fell  down  at  his  feet,  and 
gave  him  twelve  pounds  to  pray  for  her  husband,  then 
dangerously  ill.  "  Go  in  peace,"  said  Bernard  to  the 
woman,  "  thou  shalt  find  thy  husband  safe  and  sound." 
She  went  home  and  found  as  he  had  foretold.  A  simi- 
lar case  often .  occurred,  says  Wilham,  and  unexpected 
help  came  from  the  Lord,  whenever  common  means 
failed.  It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  power  of  prejudice 
and  superstition  to  blind  men's  eyes,  but  each  of  the 
then  contemporary  biographers  of  Bernard  ascribes  to 
him  a  similar  miraculous  power,  and  relates  the  won- 
derful cures  he  effected  on  men,  women,  and  children.* 
Weak  as  Bernard  was  in  body,  and  secluded  from 
the  world,  in  that  remote  valley,  he  yet  took  an  active 
part  in  all  the  great  concerns  of  church  and  State,  not 
only  in  France  but  out  of  it.  He  was  present  at  coun- 
cils, and  men  journeyed  from  far  to  ask  his  advice.  He 
lifted  his  voice  indignantly  to  rebuke  the  wantonness 
and  pride  of  the  clergy ;  wantonness  and  pride  not  sur- 


*  Neander  tells  a  singular  story,  illustrating  this  peculiarity  of  the 
age.  One  Norbert,  a  rough,  tempestuous,  destructive  personage,  was 
once  riding  in  a  hunting  expedition,  and  a  violent  storm  came  on. 
His  horse  was  struck  down  by  lightning,  and  he  lay  senseless  nearly 
an  hour.  When  he  recovered,  and  saw  how  providentially  he  had 
escaped  death,  a  shudder  came  over  him,  at  the  thought  of  his  past 
life,  from  which  he  was  so  near  being  summoned  to  the  bar  of  God. 
He  resolved  to  found  a  religious  institution,  kept  his  vow,  and  was  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  reformers  of  his  age.     1.  c.  p.  44,  seq. 


80  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

passed  by  the  nobles  of  the  court  of  Sardanapalus.  He 
declaimed  with  the  sternest  vehemence  against  the  great, 
who  trod  the  humble  down  into  the  dust.  He  labored 
to  extend  his  own  order,  and  still  more  to  defend  the 
church  from  the  assaults  of  the  temporal  powers,  —  no 
light  work,  nor  lightly  undertaken. 

At  this  time  the  moral  state  of  the  clergy  was  bad, 
very  bad.  Men  of  loose  habits  and  no  religion  pressed 
into  the  lucrative  offices  of  the  church,  through  the 
influence  of  some  prince  or  count. 

"  Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  took, 
Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearer's  feast, 
And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest." 

Their  office  was  gain.  The  pope  might  make  laws, 
often  as  he  listed,  against  simony,  extravagance,  ficen- 
tiousness,  and  all  other  clerical  sins  of  the  age;  cunning 
men  found  means  to  break  them  all,  and  live  uncon- 
cerned, or  at  least  unmolested.  The  Popes  themselves 
were  partakers  of  their  crimes.  "  The  stench  of  the 
Roman  Court,"  says  William  of  Paris,  "rising  from 
this  dunghill  of  usury,  robbery,  and  simony,  went  up  a 
hateful  steam,  to  the  very  clouds."  The  vice  of  the 
clergy  reached  its  height  about  the  middle  of  the  twelfth 
century.  In  England  alone,  about  that  time,  in  the 
short  space  of  ten  or  twelve  years,  more  than  a  hundred 
murders  were  committed  by  priests.  Bernard  saw  these 
monstrous  evils,  and  labored  with  great  diligence  to 
reform  the  clergy.  He  censured  the  monks  with  the 
greatest  severity. 

But  while  engaged  in  this  good  work,  if  we  may 
trust  his  biographer,  he  did  not  neglect  the  minor  gifts 
of  healing  the  sick,  and  casting  out  devils.  We  will 
set  down  some  of  the  miraculous  works  ascribed  to  the 


THE   LIFE    OF   ST.   BERNAED.  81 

saint  by  his  contemporaries.  In  a  certain  monastery, 
called  Carus-Locus  (Charlieu),  he  cured  a  boy,  who 
wept  and  wailed  incessantly,  with  a  kiss.^.^  For  when 
he  had  been  weeping  for  several  days,  and  found  no 
help  from  his  physicians,  our  holy  man  advised  him  to 
confess  his  sins.  He  did  so,  and  with  a  serene  face 
asked  Bernard  to  kiss  him.  This  also  was  done,  and 
"  the  kiss  of  peace  being  received  from  the  saint's  face, 
he  rested  in  perfect  peace;  the  fountain  of  his  tears 
were  dried  up,  and  he  went  back  rejoicing  to  his  friends, 
safe  and  sound." 

A  new  Oratory  was  to  be  dedicated  at  Fusniacum, 
(Foigny,)  and  a  great  swarm  of  flies  took  possession  of 
it,  so  that  their  noise  and  buzzing  was  very  ofl'ensive  to 
all  who  entered.  There  was  no  help  to  be  had.  The 
holy  Bernard  said,  "  I  excommunicate  them,"  and  the 
next  morning  they  were  all  found  dead.  This  affair 
was  so  well  known,  that  the  curse  upon  the  flies  of 
Foigny  became  a  proverb.* 

Once,  however,  Bernard  himself  fell  sick  of  the 
influenza,  we  should  judge,  and  "  his  body  failing  on  all 
hands,  he  was  brought  wellnigh  to  death's  door."  "  His 
sons  and  his  friends  came  as  it  were  to  the  funeral  of 
so  great  a  father,  and  I  also  was  present  among  them," 
says  William,  "  for  his  esteem  for  me  gave  me  a  place 
among  his  friends.  When  he  seemed  about  to  draw 
his  last  breath,  as  his  soul  was  on  the  point  of  leaving 
the  body,  he  seemed  to  himself  to  stand  before  the 
tribunal  of  the  Lord.  And  Satan  also  was  present, 
attacking  him  with  bitter  accusations.  When  he  had 
brought  forward  all  his  charges,  and  it  was  time  for  this 
man  of  God  to  speak  for  himself,  nothing  daunted  or 

*  Vita,  S.  Bernard!,  I.  c.  Lib.  I.  c.  xi. 


82  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

disturbed  in  the  slightest  degree,  he  said,  'I  confess  that 
[  am  not  worthy,  nor  can  I,  of  iny  own  merits,  obtain 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  But  my  Lord  has  obtained 
it  for  me,  in  two  legitimate  ways ;  namely,  by  inheri- 
tance from  his  Father,  and  by  the  merit  of  his  own 
suffering.  He  is  satisfied  with  one,  and  grants  me  the 
other  claim.  I  claim  it  on  the  ground  of  his  gift,  and 
shall  not  be  confounded.'  At  these  words  the  enemy 
was  put  to  shame ;  the  meeting,  (before  the  tribunal  of 
the  Lord,)  broke  up,  and  the  man  of  God  came  to  him- 
self." *  His  recovery  was  no  less  remarkable.  "  The 
blessed  Virgin  appeared  to  him,  with  two  companions, 
Saint  Laurentius  and  Saint  Benedict ;  they  laid  their 
hands  on  him,  and  by  their  pious  manifestations 
assuaged  the  pain  in  the  most  afflicted  parts  of  his 
body  ;  they  drove  off  the  sickness,  and  all  pain  ceased." 
Still  further,  to  show  to  what  length  human  cre- 
dulity will  go,  William  relates  gravely  a  miracle  Bernard 
wrought  on  the  historian  himself.  "  Once  upon  a  time, 
when  I  had  long  been  sick  in  our  own  house,  and  my 
illness,  long  continued,  had  w^eakened  and  worn  me 
down  to  a  great  degree,  Bernard  heard  of  it,  and  sent 
his  brother,  Gerhard,  —  a  man  of  happy  memory, — 
directing  me  to  come  to  Clairvaux,  and  promisingthat 
I  should  be  cured,  or  should  die  very  soon.  I  set  out 
forthwith,  though  with  great  pain  and  trouble,  for  I 
looked  on  this  as  an  opportunity,  divinely  given,  or  at 
least  offered,  of  dying  witii  him,  or  of  living  with  him 
some  time,  and  I  do  n't  know  which  I  should  have  then 
preferred.  That  was  performed  which  had  been  prom- 
ised, and,  I  confess  it,  as  I  wished.  My  health  was 
restored  from  this  great  and  dangerous  infirmity,  and 

*  L.  c.  Lib.  1.  c.  xi.  xii. 


THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD.  83 

my  strength  gradually  returned.  But,  good  God!  what 
advantage  did  this  infirmity  bring  me  I  All  the  time  of 
my  illness  with  him,  his  sickness  wrought  with  my  neces- 
sity, for  he  also  was  sick  at  that  time.  We  were  both 
ill  together,  and  he  talked  all  day  about  the  spiritual 
physic  of  the  soul,  and  the  remedial  force  of  the  virtues 
against  the  weakening  influence  of  the  vices.  Accord- 
ingly he  discoursed  to  me  of  the  Song  of  Songs,  as  far 
as  my  weakness  allowed  it."  One  day  during  his  con- 
valescence, he  abstained  from  his  customary  food,  and 
suffered  accordingly.  His  pains  returned  with  such 
violence  that  he  despaired  of  life.  Bernard  came  in,  in 
the  morning,  and  learned  the  cause  and  the  result. 
"  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  "  said  William. 
"  Keep  quiet,"  said  he,  "  you  shall  not  die  this  time," 
and  went  out.  And  what  shall  I  say?  immediately  all 
my  pain  vanished ;  the  next  day  I  was  well  again,  and 
recovered  strength,  and  after  a  few  days  went  home, 
with  the  benediction  of  my  kind  host."  * 

We  will  now  mention  but  one  more  miracle  attrib- 
uted to  Bernard.  On  a  certain  time,  "  when  that 
blessed  man  was  coming  from  Laviniacum,  a  noble 
city  in  the  bishopric  of  Meldis,  a  deaf  and  dumb  girl, 
nearly  grown  up,  was  brought  to  him.  She  was  placed 
on  the  neck  of  his  horse,  and  he  looking  up  to  heaven, 
uttered  a  short  prayer.  Then  he  anointed  her  ears  and 
lips  with  saliva  ;  blessed  her,  and  commanded  her  to 
call  on  the  Holy  Virgin.  'Immediately  the  damsel,  who 
had  never  before  spoken  a  word,  opened  her  mouth  and 

*  Beside  the  stories  of  his  miracles  related  in  the  lives  of  Ber- 
nard,— and  his  life  was  a  favorite  theme,  —  there  is  a  distinbt  trea- 
tise of  his  miracles.  Narratio  Herberti  Abbatis  Coenobii  IMorensis 
de  libro  MIraculorum  S.  Bernardi  ;  per  insigne  miraculiim  servato. 
It  may  be  found  in  Mabillon's  Edition  of  Bernard,  Vol.  II. 


84  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

cried  out,  Sancta  Maria.  There  was  present  one  Roger, 
afterwards  an  ecclesiastic  and  monk  of  Clairvaux,  but 
then  in  the  world,  and  seeing  this  miracle  wrought 
before  his  eyes,  he  was  sharply  pricked  in  the  heart,  and 
as  he  has  told  me,  this  was  the  chief  cause  that  induced 
him  to  enter  the  cloister  at  Clairvaux."  * 

In  the  year-  of  our  Lord  1130,  died  Pope  Honorius 
the  Second,  in  the  sixth  year  of  his  Pontificate.  "  In  a 
city  like  Rome,"  says  Neander,  "  where  party  spirit, 
ambition,  and  intrigues  had  long  prevailed,  where  Ava- 
rice, Poverty,  and  Wantonness  stood  side  by  side,  where 
a.  restless  people  and  ambitious  families  struggled  to- 
gether, it  was  but  natural  the  choice  of  a  Pope  should 
create  the  greatest  discord  and  dissensions."  The  de- 
ceased Pope  was  not  legally  chosen,  and  trouble  and 
bloodshed  were  avoided  only  by  the  rare  self-denial  of 
his  rival.  Cardinal  Buccapecu.  Honorius  the  Second 
had  been  placed  in  the  chair  by  the  great  families  of 
Rome,  and  especially  by  the  Frangipani.  At  his  death 
there  were  two  candidates  for  the  papacy,  one  the  de- 
scendant of  a  rich  Jewish  usurer,  who  had  been  con- 
verted to  Christianity,  and  had  taken  the  name  of  Leo. 
Cardinal  Gregory  was  supported  by  the  opposite  fac- 
tion, who  appointed  him  the  very  night  Honorius  died, 
pretending  that  such  was  his  wish.  The  new  Pope 
assumed  the  title  of  Innocent  Second.  Leo  was  pro- 
claimed Pope  by  the  other  party,  with  the  title  of 
Anaclete  Second.  Thus  there  were  two  Popes  at  the 
same  time.  Innocent  repeatedly  declined  the  power 
that  was  offered  him,  and  with  many  tears  threw  oft"  the 

*  Fragmenta  ex  Ilerberti  libris  dc  miraculis  Cisterciensium  mona- 
chorum.     C.  13,  p.  1247,  ed.  Mabillou, 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  85 

pontifical  robes,  but  was  at  last  prevailed  on  to  accept 
the  office,  when  convinced  that  he  alone  could  insure 
the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  church  in  these  times  of 
trouble.  Roger  of  Sicily  declared  in  favor  of  Anaclete. 
But  Louis  Sixth  of  France,  to  whom  Innocent  had  fled,, 
declined  at  first  deciding  between  the  two  competitors,, 
until  he  had  called  a  council  of  the  Bishops,  Bernard 
was  also  called  to  this  council,  and  cheered  by  revela- 
tions and  visions  on  his  way  thither.  His  character 
and  reputation  gave  great  weight  to  his  opinion.*  The 
affair  before  the  council  turned  chiefly  on  the  merit  of" 
the  two  Popes,  for  the  question  of  a  legal  choice  was 
little  regarded  by  either  party.  Bernard  declared  in  fa- 
vor of  Innocent,  and  by  his  eloquent  and  forcible  Jia- 
jangue,  made  such  an  impression  on  the  council,  that  a 
unanimous  vote  was  passed  confirming  the  claims  of 
Innocent  to  the  Papal  chair  and  its  consequent  infalli- 
bility. But  as  all  the  neighboring  kingdoms  did  not 
readily  follow  the  example  of  France,  Bernard  Avas  de- 
spatched to  England  to  persuade  King  Henry  First  to 
declare  for  Innocent.  But  that  acute  investigator 
doubted  if  the  election  were  legal  and  regular  in  all 
respects,  and  after  Bernard  had  cleared  up  that  point, 
and  found  his  representations  were  of  no  avail,  he  re- 
sorted to  a  device,  as  he  often  did  when  better  weapons 
failed  him.  "  You  fear  that  if  you  obey  Innocent  as 
Pope  you  shall  bring  a  sin  upon  yourself.  Let  this 
rather  be  your  only  concern,  to  answer  before  God  for- 
all  your  other  sins  ;  leave  this  sin  to  we,  /  will  take  it 

*  Dupin  is  mistaken  -when  lie  says  the  sole  decision  of  iJie  matter- 
teas  left  to  him,  (Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  12th  Century,  Ch.  iv. 
p.  43,  ed.  Lend.  1698,)  and  in  making  the  Pope  post  hither  (tc 
France)  tcifh  all  diligence,  after  the  King's  declaration.  He  went 
there  before. 

8 


86  THE   LIFE    OF   ST.   BERNARD. 

vpon  mijseljr  And  the  word  of  the  venerable  man 
was  sufficient  to  quiet  his  scruples.*  Bernard  then 
accompanied  the  new  Pope  in  a  journey  through  the 
greater  part  of  France,  "  strengthening  the  churches." 

At  this  time  Lothaire  of  Saxony,  and  Conrad  of  the 
Swabian  family,  —  so  hateful  to  the  Popes,  —  were  con- 
tending for  the  crown  of  Germany.  The  former  Pope 
had  acknowledged  Lothaire,  and  both  of  the  rival 
Popes,  recognizing  their  predecessor's  infallibility,  de- 
clared in  favor  of  Lothaire.  He  was  indeed  addressed 
by  the  Roman  friends  of  Anaclete,  but  took  no  notice 
of  their  letter,  for  his  chief  Bishops  had  already  given 
in  their  adhesion  to  Innocent.  To  quiet  these  difficul- 
ties, or  rather  to  strengthen  the  papal  hands.  Innocent 
went  to  Germany.  Bernard  accompanied  him,  serving" 
the  cause  by  his  eloquence  and  activity.  When  he 
preached,  the  audience  was  melted  into  tears,  even 
though  they  did  not  understand  the  language  in  which 
he  spoke.  This  event  often  happened.  At  Liittich  tiie 
Pope  and  Emperor  first  met,  the  latter  surrounded  by 
his  great  men,  "  the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal." 
He  dismounted,  walked  through  the  assembly,  took  the 
Pope's  horse  by  the  bridle  with  one  hand,  and  holding 
in  the  other  the  staff  of  defence  for  the  church,  con- 
ducted the  pontiff  to  the  church.  Here,  after  mention- 
ing the  many  evils  the  Em])ire  had  borne  for  the  church, 
he  touched  tipon  the  right  of  investiture,  so  long  a  sub- 
ject of  controversy  between  them,  and  of  course  main- 
tained his  own  claims.  But  Bernard  set  forth  in  such 
glowing  colors  the  injustice  of  his  demand,  that  he  re- 
ceded, leaving  this  important  right  in  the  hands  of  the 


*  Vita  S.  Bernardi  Auctore  Ernaldo,  etc.    Lib.  ii.  c.  i.  and  Nean- 
der,  p.  72,  sq. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  87 

Pope.*  This  signal  service  of  the  holy  abbot  was  never 
forgot.  Innocent  and  Lothaire  separated  in  perfect 
harmony.f  The  next  year,  after  Bernard  and  the  Pope 
had  passed  through  several  districts  of  France  ;  had 
quieted  the  discontented,  and  reconciled  the  hostile,  and 
held  a  council  at  Rheims,  Lothaire  conducted  Innocent 
to  Rome,  and  entering  by  violence  into  the  city,  was 
crowned  by  that  Pope.  But  Anaclete's  party  was  still 
strong  in  the  metropolis,  and  Innocent  fled  to  Pisa, 
which  was  near  both  to  France  and  Germany,  and 
where  his  friends  were  powerful  enough  to  protect 
him. 

The  letter  of  Bernard  to  the  Pisans  is  a  curious  mon- 
ument of  the  spirit  of  the  age.  "  May  the  Lord  bless 
you  and  remember  the  faithful  service  and  pious  com- 
passion, and  consolation,  which  you  have  shown,  and 
still  continue  to  show,  toward  the  spouse  of  his  Son,  in 
an  evil  time,  and  in  the  days  of  her  affliction.  This  is 
already  in  part  fulfilled,  and  some  fruit  of  my  prayer  is 
already  in  our  hands.  A  worthy  recompense  shall  soon 
remunerate  you.  God  rewards  thee  for  thy  works.  Oh 
nation,  whom  he  hath  chosen  as  an  heritage  to  himself, 
an  acceptable  nation,  zealous  of  good  works.  Pisa  is 
taken  in  the  place  of  Rome,  and  is  chosen  out  of  all 
cities  of  the  earth,  as  the  place  of  the   apostolic  seat. 

*  See  on  this  point  an  extract  from  Echart's  Quaternis  vet.  Monu- 
ment, p.  46,  in  Gieseler's  Eccles.  History,  Am.  ed.  Vol.  ii.  p.  182, 
note  1. 

t  Lothaire,  it  seems,  was  little  better  than  a  puppet  for  the  Pontiff. 
He  received  his  crown  on  liis  knees,  as  a  feudal  investiture  from  the 
Pope,  and  so  became  the  vassal  of  the  church.  The  Pope  caused  a 
painting  to  be  made  of  this  imperial  genuflection,  with  the  following 
inscription  beneath  it.  Rex  homo  fit  Papae.  See  AVolfgang 
Menzel's  Geschichte  der  Deutschen,  etc.  3d  ed.  1937.  Chap.  199, 
p.  284, sq. 


«0  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

This  has  not  happened  by  any  human  chance,  or  coun- 
sel, but  by  the  celestial  providence  and  divine  favor  of 
God,  who  loves  those  that  love  him,  and  has  said  to 
Christ  his  friend  Innocent,  (Christo  suo  Innocentio,) 
Dwell  thou  in  Fisa,  and  blessing,  I  will  bless  it.  Inhabit 
there  since  I  have  chosen  it.  By  my  counsel,  the  con- 
stancy of  the  Pisans  yields  not  to  the  wickedness  of  the 
Sicilian  tyrant,  nor  is  shaken  by  his  threats,  nor  cor- 
rupted by  his  gifts,  nor  circumvented  by  his  frauds.  Oh 
men  of  Pisa  I  men  of  Pisa  I  God  hath  done  greatly  for 
you;  we  are  made  joyful.  What  city  does  not  envy 
you !  Keep  what  is  committed  to  thee,  faithful  city ; 
acknowledge  the  favor;  seek  to  be  found  not  ungrate- 
ful for  the  privilege.  Honor  the  father  of  thyself  and 
all  ;  honor  the  chiefs  of  the  world  who  are  in  thee,  and 
the  judges  of  the  earth  whose  presence  renders  thee 
illustrious,  glorious,  famous.* 

Bernard  thus  wrought  diligently  for  the  head  of  the 
church,  both  in  person  and  by  his  many  letters.  The  in- 
habitants of  Milan  had  been  fast  friends  to  Anaclete. 
The  city  was  one  of  his  strong-holds.  It  had  espoused 
the  party  of  Conrad.  And  Anselm,  the  metropolitan 
Bishop,  strenuously  opposed  Innocent,  though  sonae  of 
the  clergy  had  taken  his  part  This  disagreement 
among  the  clergy  led  to  many  evils,  and  a  certain  time 
was  appointed  by  the  magistrates  to  settle  the  matter 
between  the  parties.  On  the  day  appointed,  a  large 
body  of  men, dressed  in  coarse  and  undyed  woollen  gar- 
ments, Iheir  heads  shaven  in  an  unusual  fashion,  ap- 
peared in  the  place  of  meeting.  They  were  men  more 
or  less  connected  with  the  Cistercian  order  of  monks, 
and  of  course  were  friends  to  Bernard  and  Innocent. 


*Epist.  130.     Ed.  Mabillon. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  89 

"  These  men,"  said  Anselm  to  the  hostile  Bishops, 
"  these  men  are  heretics."  But  it  would  not  do  ;  the 
people  regarded  them  as  angels  of  light,  and_  he  was  no 
longer  looked  on  as  the  head  and  bishop  of  the  diocese. 
Messengers  were  sent  to  briijg  Bernard  himself,  "  the 
last  of  the  fathers,"  the  great  pacificator.  He  came  ; 
the  result  was  wonderful,  and  is  thus  described  by  a 
contemporary.  "  When  the  inhabitants  of  Milan  heard 
that  the  well-beloved  abbot  was  drawing  nigh  to  their 
borders,  all  the  people  went  out  to  meet  him  seven 
miles  from  the  city.  Noble  and  vulgar,  horse  and  foot, 
rich  and  poor,  as  if  migrating  from  the  city,  left  their 
homes,  and,  arranged  in  regular  order,  received  the  Man 
of  God,  with  incredible  reverence.  All  were  delighted 
to  see  Ijim  ;  they  judged  themselves  happy  who  could 
hear  him  speak,  and  they  kissed  his  feet.  They  pulled 
threads  out  of  his  garments,  and  took  whatever  thread 
they  could  from  the  hem  of  his  garments,  (de  pannorum 
laciniis,)  as  remedies  for  sickness,  counting  as  sacred 
whatever  he  had  touched,  and  thinking  that  they  also 
should  be  made  holy  by  using  or  touching  any  of  those 
things."  * 

Here  he  allayed  all  the  strife  and  settled  the  difficul- 
ties as  usual.  Nor  is  this  all.  Landulf  the  younger, 
an  eye-witness,  thus  speaks  of  his  work.  "  At  a  nod 
from  him  all  sorts  of  church  apparel,  that  was  of  gold 
or  silver,  —  because  disagreeable  to  the  abbot,  —  were 
shut  up  in  presses.  Men  and  women  put  on  garments 
of  hair,  or  the  coarsest  wool ;  water  was  changed  into 
wine.  Devils  were  cast  out  and  the  sick  healed.  The 
abbot  loose4  the  bonds  of  the  captives  taken  by  the 
Milanese,  and  restored  them  to  freedom.     And  by  an 

*  Vita  S.  Bernard.  1.  c.  Lib.  ii.  Cap.  ii. 

8* 


90  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

oath  he  made  them  take,  he  bound  this  great  people  in 
•love  to  the  Emperor  Lothaire,  and  obedience  to  the 
Pope."  * 

One  day,  continues  Ernaldus,  the  people,  knowing 
"that  he  obtained  whatever  he  chanced  to  ask  of  the 
Lord,  brought  to  him,  nothing  doubting,  a  woman ;  a 
woman  known  to  all  of  them,  and  whom  an  unclean 
spirit  had  vexed  seven  years,  suppliantly  asking  him,  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord,  to  put  the  devil  to  flight,  and 
restore  the  woman  to  health."  He  blushed  a  little  as 
they  persisted,  but  thought  he  might  oflend  God  if  he 
declined  doing  so  good  a  work.  Thinking  within  him- 
self, he  concluded  it  would  be  a  sign  to  the  unbelieving, 
"so  he  committed  his  enterprise  to  the  Holy  Ghost," 
and  kneeling  in  prayer,  put  the  devil  to  route^  in  the 
spirit  of  fortitude,  and  gave  back  the  woman  safe  and 
sound.  "  The  noise  of  this  affair  soon  went  abroad, 
and  suddenly  it  filled  all  the  city ;  and  through  the 
churches,  the  camps,  (praetoria,)  and  all  the  public 
streets,  they  came  thronging  together.  Everybody 
was  talking  about  the  Man  of  God.  It  Avas  stated  in 
public  that  nothing  was  impossible  which  he  asked  of 
God.  They  say  and  believe,  they  preach  and  confirm 
it,  that  the  ears.of  God  are  open  to  his  prayers.  They 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  seeing  and  hearing  him. 
Some  rushed  into  his  presence  ;  others  took  their 
stations  before  the  doors  until  he  should  go  out.  Men 
left  business  and  trade ;  all  the  city  was  in  suspense  on 
this  spectacle.  They  rush  together;  they  beg  to  be 
blest,  and  some  seem  to  have  been  healed  by  touching 
him."  f  He  healed  a  woman  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind, 
and  possessed  of  a  devil,  in  the  presence  of  a  great  mul- 

*  LaiulufT,  cited  in  Neaiulcr,  p.  83,  sq.  f  L.  c.  c.  ii. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNAKD.  91 

titude,  by  going  up  to  the  house  with  the  Host  in  his 
hand,  and  adjuring  the  devil,  in  the  name  of  God,  to 
leave  the  woman.  ^^ 

We  will  not  weary  the  patience  of  our  readers  with 
more  details.  The  few  we  have  given  mark  an  age  of 
credulity,  when  a  sharp  distinction  was  not  made  be- 
tween the  miraculous  and  the  natural ;  when  the  effects 
of  imagination,  of  a  strong  will,  or  sensitive  nerves, 
were  less  understood  than  now,  and  when  "  wonders  " 
were  expected  of  each  very  holy  man.  Where  they  are 
expected,  or  looked  for,  they  always  come.  The»history 
of  trials  for  witchcraft  might  lead  a  philosopher  to 
ponder  deeply  the  natural  law  of  testimony.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  these  monks  believed  Berniird  wrought 
surprising  miracles.*  No  doubt,  he  himself  believed 
that  he  wrought  them,  for  he  often  mentions  the  fact, 
but  without  any  vainglory.  His  biographer  relates 
with  surprise  that  he  never  grew  vain  of  his  powers, 
"  never  walked  above  himself  in  wonderful  things,  but 
judging  humbly  of  himself,  thought  he  was  not  the 
author  of  these  venerable  works,  but  only  their  minister; 
and  when  in  the  opinion  of  all,  he  was  the  greatest,  in 
his  own  opinion,  he  was  the  least."  This  latter  state- 
ment is  not  strictly  true,  for  the  vice  of  pride  had  en- 
tered into  his  soul,  and  his  ambition  and  love  of  power 
knew  no  bounds.  His  hatred  of  those  who  stood 
in  his  way  was  cruel  and  remorseless,  as  we  shall  soon 
see. 

After  he  had  finished  his  work  in  Italy,  Bernard  re- 
turned to   Clairvaux.     But  the  fame  of   his    greatness 


*  Even  Fenelon  believed  these  miracles,  and  cites  them  as  proofs  of 
the  power  of  God.  See  his  "  Sermon  pour  la  fete  de  Saint  Bernard," 
in  his  CEuvres.     Paris.    1822.     Tom.  iii.  pp.  196-219. 


92  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

Avent  before  him.  As  he  passed  the  Alps  "the  herds- 
men and  boors  eame  down  from  their  rocks  to  see  him, 
and  after  receiving  his  blessing,  turned  back  joyful  to 
their  rude  dwellings."  His  monks  received  him  with 
no  less  joy.  They  fell  down  before  him  and  embraced 
his  knees ;  they  rose  up  and  kissed  him,  and  in  this 
manner  conducted  him  to  the  cloister.  Here,  during 
his  long  absence  from  Clairvaux,  "the  Devil  could  effect 
nothing.  No  mildew  had  gathered  on  the  pure  minds 
therein,  and  the  house  of  God^  founded  on  a  rock,  was 
in  no  part  shaken."  "  No  quarrels  had  been  kept  for 
his  coming,  and  no  long-nursed  hatred  broke  out  in  his 
presence."  The  young  did  not  accuse  the  old  of  aus- 
terity, nor  did  the  old  accuse  the  young  of  remissness, 
"  but  they  were  all  found  of  one  accord,  in  the  house  of 
God;  in  holiness  and  peace  ascending  the  ladder  of 
Jacob,  and  hastening  up  to  look  on  God,  whose  delec- 
table countenance  shonei  in  the  upper  realm.  The 
Abbot,  not  unmindful  of  him  who  said,  '  I  saw  Satan 
falling  as  lightning  froni  heaven,'  was  the  more  humble 
and  submissive  to  God  as  he  saw  that  God  was  pro- 
pitious to  his  desires.  Nor  did  he  rejoice  because  the 
devils  were  subject  to  him,  but  rather  he  rejoiced  in  the 
Lord,  because  he  saw  the  names  of  his  brethren  were 
written  in  heaven." 

But  the  difficulties  of  the  times  would  not  suffer  the 
strong  and  active  spirit  of  Bernard  to  remain  idle  or 
contemplative  at  Clairvaux,  "bewailing  his  own  sins." 
New  troubles  called  him  forth  again.  William  the 
Ninth  of  Aquitaine  and  Poictou,  espousing  the  part  of 
Anaclete,  deposed  all  the  bishops  of  the  Province  who 
were  hostile  to  him.  Bishop  Godfrey  of  Chartres  went 
with  Bernard  to  visit  the  rebellious  prince.  He  was  a 
rough  layman,  who  knew  no  reason  for  following  one 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  93 

Pope  more  than  the  other,  but  had  taken  a  solemn  oath 
never  to  be  reconciled  with  the  degraded  bishops.  Ber- 
nard attempted  for  a  long  time  to  bring  the  Baron  to 
reason;  but  his  efforts  were  fruitless.  So  he  went  into 
the  church  to  celebrate  high  mass.  The  Prince,  who 
had  been  excommunicated,  did  not  venture  in,  but  stood 
without  at  the  door.  Bernard  consecrated  and  transub- 
stantiated the  bread  and  wine ;  gave  his  blessing  to  the 
people,  and  then,  with  fiery  countenance  and  flaming 
eyes,  and  threatening  look,  "  bearing  on  a  platter  the 
bread  just  changed  to  the  body  of  Christ,"  went  out  to 
the  Prince,  and  said  to  him,  "  in  terrible  words,"  "  We 
have  entreated,  and  you  have  despised  us.  The  multi- 
tude of  God's  servants  united  has  besought  you  in  two 
meetings,  and  you  have  mocked  at  them.  So  now 
comes  to  you  the  Son  of  the  Virgin,  the  Head  and 
Lord  of  the  Church,  which  you  persecute.  Here  is  thy 
Judge,  at  whose  name  every  name  shall  bow,  of  things 
celestial,  and  terrestrial,  and  things  under  the  earth. 
Here  is  thy  Judge,  into  whose  hands  thy  soul  will 
come.  Will  you  despise  Jlim  also?  Will  you  de- 
spise Him,  as  you  have  despised  his  servants  ?  " 
The  prince  was  overcome ;  he  fell  like  one  lifeless 
on  the  ground.  His  servants  raised  him  up.  Ber- 
nard ordered  him  to  rise  upon  his  feet ;  to  be  recon- 
ciled with  the  bishops  of  Poictiers ;  to  give  him  the  kiss 
of  peace,  and  yield  to  Pope  Innocent.  The  humbled 
Prince  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and  thus  peace  was 
restored  to  a  whole  province.  This  event  is  character- 
istic of  the  middle  ages,  —  the  presumption  of  the 
priest,  and  the  folly  of  the  Prince. 

Bernard  was   the    most   powerful   man  in  Europe ; 
though  but  an  ecclesiastic,  without  money,  or  lands,  or 


94  THE   LIFE   OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

soldiers,  or  powerful  connections,  by  the  might  of  his 
spirit  alone,  this  emaciated  monk  kept  the  wide  world 
in  awe.     He  tamed  rough  barons ;  said  to  kings,  thus 
far  and  no  farther.     It  was  mainly  through  his  influence, 
that  Innocent  kept  possession  of  the  papal  chair.     He 
reconciled  Conrad  with  Lothaire.  .  A  third  time  he  was 
called  to  Rome,  by  the  Pope,  whom  German  arms  once 
more   established   in   the  capital,  though  here  he  held 
only  divided   empire.     He    attempted  to  reconcile  the 
two  papal  parties  without  loss  of  blood,  and  had  a  con- 
venient formula,  wherewith  to  remove  any  oaths,  that 
interfered  with  his  plans.     "  Alliances  hostile  to  the  law 
can  never  be  comfirmed  by  an  oath,  for  God's  law  ren- 
ders them  of   no  avail."     He  went  to  Roger,  king  of 
Sicily,  on   the  eve  of  a   battle,  hoping  to  divert  that 
prince  from  assisting  Anaclete.     This  effort  was  vain ; 
but  after  Roger  had  lost  the  battle  he  consented  to  de- 
cide between  the   two    popes,  on  condition  that  their 
respective  claims  were  laid  before  him.     So  on  a  set 
day  Roger  arrayed  himself  in  his  robes  of  State,  and 
sat  down  to  hear  the  conflicting  parties.     The  cardinals 
of  the  two  Popes  appeared  as  counsel.     On  the  side  of 
Anaclete,  the  chief  speaker  was  Cardinal  Peter,  or  Pisa, 
a  man  well  skilled   in    dialectics    and  the  canon  law. 
Bernard,  of  course,  was  the  foremost  in  favor  of  Inno- 
cent.    Bernard's  chief  argument  was  this :  There  is  no 
salvation    out  of  the   true   church  ;    the  legal  Pope  is 
head  of  the  true  church.     Now  almost  all  the  western 
churches  have  declared  Innocent  to  be  that  head,  and  it 
is  more  likely  they  should  be  in  the  right,  since  they  all 
agree,  than  it  is  that  Roger,  a  single  layman,  is  alone 
right;  for  God  would  not  suffer  so  many  to  go  astray, 
and  be  damned  eternally,  while  one  only,  and  he  a  lay- 
man, was  saved.     Cardinal  Peter  was  convinced  by  the 


THE   LIFE    OF   ST.    BERNARD.  -  95 

logical  skill  and  eloquence  of  his  opponent,  and  was 
soon  reconciled  to  Innocent;  for  it  would  be  quite 
unfair  to  suppose,  the  offers  of  power,  gnd  wealth, 
thrown  privately  into  the  scales,  had  the  slightest 
weight  in  the  dialectic  balance  of  this  cardinal,  so  well 
versed  in  the  canon  law.  Roger  still  held  out,  but 
luckily  Anaclete  died  soon  after,  (1138,)  and  when  hfs 
friends  appointed  Victor  the  Third  his  successor,  Ber- 
nard had  the  hardihood  to  beard  the.  lion  in  his  den, 
and  ask  the  new  Pope  to  renounce  his  budding  honors; 
and  still  more,  he  had  the  address  to  succeed  in  the 
attempt.  Victor  went  and  fell  down  at  Innocent's  feet, 
and  did  him  homage.  Peace  was  thus  restored  to  the 
Church.  Years  of  war  and  thousands  of  lives  were 
saved,  by  the  force  of  this  poor  monk.  The  public 
gratitude  did  not  loiter  behind  such  signal  merit.  The 
people  received  him  everywhere  with  shouts.  Men  and 
women  escorted  him  in  processions  from  place  to  place. 
But,  his  work  done,  he  returned  again  to  the  quiet 
repose,  and  mystical  devotion  of  Clairvaux,  to  retire 
into  himself,  and  to  write  letters  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 
But  the  repose  of  this  "  Dog  of  the  Church "  was 
never  very  deep,  or  of  long  continuance.  The  Church 
was  always  in  trouble.  Bishops  quan-elled  with  one 
another,  or  a  priest  took  a  wife,  a  lord  sold  a  benefice, 
or  a  monk  went  back  to  the  cottage  or  the  camp,  and 
the  burden  of  the  Church  fell  on  Bernard.  We  must 
pass  over  the  troubles  occasioned  by  nobles  pressing, 
uncalled  for,  into  ecclesiastical  offices,  and  by  the  wick- 
edness of  the  clergy,  to  come  to  the  remarkable  quarrel 
between  Bernard  and  Abelard. 

So  long  as  ignorance  lowered  dark  and  heavy  on  the 
middle  ages,  there  was  no  doubt  of  the  Church's  doc- 


96  THE   LIFE    OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

trine.  Then  nothing  opposed  the  ecclesiastical  sway, 
but  the  Flesh  and  the  Devil,  —  ambitious  and  wicked 
men.  The  Church  was  in  advance  of  the  world,  and 
the  little  light  by  which  men  walked  came  mainly  from 
the  Church  itself.  But  there  is  no  monopoly  of  truth, 
and  least  of  all  can  the  whole  of  wisdom  be  appropri- 
ated by  a  body  of  men,  however  pious  and  thoughtful, 
who  resolve  to  accept  nothing,  which  was  not  admitted 
by  their  fathers,  centuries  before.  So  when  light  began 
to  dawn  on  the  world  once  more,  and  the  clouds  to 
withdraw  their  heavy  folds,  and  the  noble  army  of 
Greek  and  Roman  sages  or  poets  to  come  out  of  their 
recesses,  men  began  to  doubt,  for  the  first  time,  whether 
all  moral,  philosophical,  and  religious  truth  were  con- 
tained in  the  dogmas  of  the  Church.  These  doubts 
came  from  the  wisest  and  best  men  of  the  age.  Thus 
the  Church  was  assaulted  not  only  by  its  old  enemies, 
the  Flesh  and  the  Devil,  with  whom  it  knew  how  to 
contend,  but  also  by  the  Spirit  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
against  whom  some  new  device  was  to  be  tried.  JMen, 
wiser  and  holier  than  the  Church  itself,  rose  up,  —  often 
coming  from  its  own  bosom,  —  and  opened  their  dark 
sayings.  Hence  arose  two  parties ;  one  stood  on  au- 
thority, and  adhered  strictly  to  the  old  theological  for- 
mulas, and  if  they  could  not  find  expressed  therein  the 
sum  of  wisdom  which  they  sought,  they  found  it  by 
implication.  A  few  of  the  latter  sort  of  this  class,  call- 
ing a  certain  capricious  mysticism  to  their  aid,  succeeded 
marvellously  with  their  work.  They  were  the  conserva- 
tists  of  that  time,  and  dealt  out,  with  a  lavish  hand,  the 
thunders  of  the  Church,  and  its  fire  and  fagots  too, 
against  all  who  dared  to  look  forward.  The  other 
party,  few  in  numbers,  but  often  mighty  in  talents, 
relied  on  no  authority,  however  great  and  good.     They 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  97 

referred  all  to  the  human  soul,  or  rather  to  the  Spirit  of 
God  in  the  soul  of  man.  Hence  they  deduced  their 
doctrines,  and  hereby  they  formed  the  dog^ias  they  ac- 
cepted. To  them,  philosophy  was  more  than  history.. 
They  might  not  disagree  with  the  creed  of  the  Church,, 
in  whose  bosom  they  sometimes  continued  all  their  life- 
long, but  their  starting  point,  their  new  method,  their- 
spirit  differed  entirely  from  that  of  the  Church.  This- 
party  was  inclined  to  rationalism,  as  the  other  was  tO' 
a  vicious  sort  of  mysticism.  Yet  there  were  genuine 
mystics  and  religious  men  in  either  sect.  It  would  be 
instructive,  as  well  as  curious,  to  trace  the  gradual 
growth  of  Protestantism  in  the  middle  age,  —  coinci- 
dent as  it  was  with  the  spread  of  light,  —  but  we  for- 
bear.* 

Abelard  would  be  prominent  in  any  period  of  the 
world's  history;  but  in  the  twelfth  century  he  towers 
above  his  contemporaries  like  a  colossus.  He  went 
back  to  the  human  soul,  and  from  that  he  attempted  to 
prove  the  truth  of  his  doctrines,  knowing  well,  that 
while  men  rested  on  truths  that  were  elementary  and 
universal,  even  if  they  should  doubt  the  Scriptures,  and 
deny  the  Church,  they  would  still  be  religious,  useful  to 
their  fellows,  and  acceptable  to  God.  Besides,  he  saw 
Credulity  confounded  with  Faith,  and  Superstition: 
mistaken  for  vital  Piety.  His  aim  was  to  unite  Reason; 
and  Religion.  He  denied,  that  we  can  form  an  ade- 
quate  conception   of   God,   or   express    his   nature,  in 

*  Anaong  those  who  contributed  most  poAverfully,  directly  or  re- 
motely to  this,  may  be  named  Scotus  Erigena,  Gerbcrt,  (afterwards^ 
Pope  Sylvester  II.,)  Berenger,  or  Berengarius  of  Tours.  (See  Les- 
sing's  S'amtliche,.  Werke,  Vol.  XX.),  Lanfranc,  Roscelin,  Anselmj, 
and  Abelard. 

a 


98  THE    LIFE    OP    ST.    BERNARD. 

words.*  He  attempted  to  explain  the  Trinity  in  a 
manner  sufficiently  orthodox,  if  that  mystery  is  to  be 
explained  at  all,  and  the  profound  truth  it  covers,  but 
too  often  conceals,  also  is  to  be  pointed  out  and  ex- 
plained. He  denied  free-will  to  God,  in  the  sense  we 
apply  that  term  to  man,  who,  from  his  weakness  and 
wickedness,  must  decide  between  conflicting  desires. 
He  found  virtue,  like  Christian  excellence,  among  the 
heathen  also,  who,  as  well  as  the  Jews,  received  revela- 
tions, and  sometimes  had  power  to  work  miracles.  But 
the  doctrines  of  the  Church  forbid  the  free  action  of  his 
mind  in  this  direction,  and  so  he  concluded  that  baptism 
was  necessary  to  salvation  and  the  forgiveness  of  sins, 
though  the  man  lived  a  life  never  so  divine.  But  he 
dwelt  with  great  delight  on  the  virtue  of  some  of  the 
heathens,  and  with  the  obvious  design  of  shaming  the 
hideous  sin  of  the  clergy  in  his  own  day.  He  judged 
virtue  by  its  motives,  not  by  its  actions ;  defined  sin  as 
voluntary  action  opposed  to  God's  law.  He  spoke  with 
the  greatest  indignation  against  those  men,,  who  were 
frightened  by  fear  of  hell,  and  after  a  life  of  sin,  repent- 
ing on  their  death-bed,  left  money  got  by  crime,  that 
priests,  wicked  as  themselves,  and  hypocrites  besides, 
might  say  masses  for  their  souls.  He  denied  the  false 
or  alleged  miracles  of  his  time,  though  he  admitted  the 
Christian  miracles  in  full. 

Such  a  man  could  not  want  for  opponents.  His 
philosophical  oj)inions;  his  Christian  zeal,  which  some- 
times out-travelled  his  discretion ;  still  more,  his  ten- 
dency to  call  sin,  sin,  and  his  violent  invectives  against 

*  To  judge  from  his  remarks  on  this  point,  there  seems  to  be  a  strik- 
ing similarity  between  him  and  IlegcL 


THE   LIFE   OF    ST.   BERNARD.  99 

vice  and  hollowness,  raised  up  for  him  a  host  of  ene- 
mies. The  timid  feared;  the  wicked  hated  him.  But 
we  are  now  concerned  with  Abelard,  only  so  far  as  he 
comes  into  the  history  of  Bernard.  The  first  persecu- 
tion *  of  Abelard,  —  and  in  which  Bernard  took  an 
active  part, —  arose,  like  many  others,  from  personal, 
and  not  ecclesiastical  jealousy.  Albric  and  Lotulf,  rival 
professors  at  Rheims, brought  two  charges  against  him; 
the  one,  that  he,  a  monk,  engaged  in  secular  studies ; 
the  other,  that  he  taught  theology,  which  he  had  never 
learned  "  from  the  great  doctors  of  the  age,"  and  with- 
out a  regular  theological  education.  Their  complaints 
were  brought  before  the  Council  of  Soissons,  (1121,) 
where  his  obnoxious  book  (de  Theologia)  was  to  be  ex- 
plained. The  matter  was  referred  to  a  gi-eater  council, 
at  Paris.  Here,  to  quell  the  alarm,  Abelard  threw  his 
offensive  book  into  the  fire,  knowing  well  that  this  act 
would  recoil  upon  his  enemies.  He  withdrew  to  a 
cloister.  But  the  public  condemned  his  opponents,  and 
he  soon  returned  in  triumph  to  Paris,  renewed  his  teach- 
ings and  attacks  on  the  wicked  lives  of  the  monks. 
But,  getting  weary  of  this  work,  —>-  as  hopeless  as  to 
pick  up  all  the  sands  of  Sahara,  —  and,  desiring  leisure 
to  think  far  down  into  the  deep  of  things,  he  retired  to 
solitude  once  more.  Here  he  lived  in  poverty  and  want. 
But  pupils  came  to  be  taught.  The  neighborhood  was 
filled  with  young  men.  A  great  enthusiasm,  wide  and 
deep,  broke  out  in  his  favor.  His  doctrines  spread  far 
and  wide.  The  watch-dog  of  the  Church  awoke  from 
his  brief  slumbers  at  Clairvaux,  and  began  his  threaten- 
ing  growl.     Bernard,  —  the    Napoleon  of  the    twelfth 

*  The  opposition  of  Walter  de  Mauritania  does  not  deserve  so  harsh 
a  name. 


100  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

century,  —  was  more  formidable  than  all  other  oppo- 
nents, bishops,  and  councils.  To  escape  the  imminent 
danger,  Abclard  accepted  the  post  of  Abbot  in  Brittany. 
But  he  could  not  be  silent,  and  here  likewise  his  hateful 
doctrines  were  taught,  and  rumors  of  Abelard's  fame 
went  up  like  a  cloud,  and  extended  to  Clairvaux.  Ber- 
nard "  eyed  him  "  as  "  Saul  eyed  David."  He  warned 
him,  in  letters,  to  change  his  "  manner  of  theologizing," 
and  on  all  occasions  cautioned  Abelard's  pupils  against 
the  poison  of  their  master's  doctrines.  He  was  not  a 
man  to  sit  quietly  down  and  thus  suffer  dictation, 
though  from  "  the  first  man  in  the  century."  He  ex- 
pressed a  willingness  to  look  Bernard  in  the  face,  and 
argue  the  matter  in  the  Synod  of  Sens  (1140),  before 
an  assembly  of  the  first  men  of  the  nation.  He  called 
on  his  thousands  of  scholars  to  come  and  witness  his 
triumph.  But  Bernard  declined  entering  the  lists  with 
the  first  dialectician  of  the  age.  He  knew  what  he  was 
about,  —  the  artful  monk.  So  he  cunningly  wrote,  — 
that  precursor  of  the  Jesuits,  —  "he  would  not  make 
the  articles  of  faith  matters  of  dispute."  No.  They 
rested  on  authority,  which  was  abandoned  soon  as  he 
came  down  into  a  fair  field.  He  wished  his  opponent's 
doctrines  to  be  compared  with  the  "  standards  "  of  the 
only  infallible  Church.  Thus  the  accused  was  con- 
demned by  implication,  and  without  a  hearing.  But  it 
is  easy  to  gainsay  such  a  swift  verdict  of  condemnation, 
and  Abelard's  reputation  rose  higher  even  than  before. 
His  scholars  boasted,  that  even  Bernard  dared  not  ven- 
ture into  the  arena  with  their  master.  So  it  became 
necessary  for  the  Abbot  of  Clairvaux  to  make  a  regular 
attack,  and  rif^k  a  defeat,  or  else  leave  his  rival  master 
of  the  field.  So  he  came  to  the  council.  The  king 
was  present,  and  the  most  eminent  bishops,  abbots,  and 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  101 

clergymen  in  general ;  men  over  whom  Bernard's  au- 
thority was  almost  despotic.  Abelard  knew  a  fair  hear- 
ing would  not  be  allowed  him.  Bernard  ;^as  resolved 
to  give  him  no  chance  for  it,  and  laid  before  the  council 
a  list  of  passages,  carefully  culled  from  Abelard's  works, 
and  flanked  by  the  conflicting  doctrines  of  the  Church. 
He  then  called  on  the  accused  to  recant,  or  defend  the 
passages.  Abelard  was  silent,  and  the  council  pro- 
nounced the  obnoxious  sentences  heretical.  But  before 
they  could  take  the  next  step,  and  condemn  the  man  as 
a  heretic,  he  appealed  to  the  pope.  No  sooner  was  this 
done,  than  Bernard  wrote  letters  to  the  pope,  an<4  the 
nobles  of  Rome,  to  prejudice  their  minds  against  the 
alleged  heretic.  In  these  letters,  as  in  the  statement 
made  to  the  council,  Bernard  either  intentionally  mis- 
represented, or  atrociously  misunderstood  Abelard  ;  * 
charged  upon  him  doctrines  he  never  taught,  and 
twisted  sentences  into  a  form  different  from  the  origi- 
nal. Bernard  had  great  influence  at  the  Roman  court. 
The  Church  was  afraid  of  Philosophy.  The  result  was, 
that  the  passages  obnoxious  to  Bernard  were  judged 
heretical ;  the  author  was  pronounced  a  heretic,  and  for- 
bidden to  teach  the  obnoxious  doctrines.  All  who  ad- 
hered to  them  were  excommunicated.  Thus  was  he 
condemned,  through  the  jealousy  of  one  man,  without 


*  See  Epist.  187-194.  lie  condemns  the  works  of  Abefard,  namely, 
Theologia,  Liber  Sententiarum,  and  Nosce  Teipsum.  He  calls  his 
opponent  many  hard  names,  an  Arian,  a  Pelagian,  a  Ncstorian,  "  a 
Horod  at  home,  and  a  Saint  John  abroad."  "  In  all  things  that  are 
in  Heaven  above,  etc.,  he  sees  only  himself."  "  A  fabricator  of  lies." 
Epist.  327-338.  Abbot  William  fears  the  treatise,  Sic  et  Non,  is 
"  monstrous  in  doctrine  as  it  is  in  name."  See  also  Bernardi  Opus- 
eula,  especially  the  "  Tract  concerning  the  errors  of  Peter  Abelard," 
sometimes  put  among  his  letters,  as  Epist.  190. 

9* 


102  THE   LIFE    OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

any  proof  that  the  obnoxious  passages  were  contained 
in  his  writings,  or  that  they  would  not  bear  a  different 
interpretation,  and  without  asking  if  the  author  could 
not  reconcile  them  with  the  orthodox  faith.  All  his 
heretical  doctrines  were  condemned,  but  no  care  was 
taken  to  specify  ivhich  were  heretical.  Bernard's  con- 
duct in  this  affair  justifies  fully  the  sharp  and  bitter  cen- 
sure of  Bayle  and  others,  whom  he  follows.  "  It  is 
certain,  that  he  had  very  great  talents,  and  a  great  deal 
of  zeal;  but  some  pretend,  that  his  zeal  made  him  too 
jealous  of  those,  who  acquired  a  great  name  through 
the  study  of  human  learning,  and  they  add,  that  his 
mild  and  easy  temper  rendered  him  too  credulous,  when 
he  heard  any  evil  reported  of  these  learned  persons.  It 
is  difficult  to  imagine  he  was  free  from  human  passions, 
when  he  made  it  his  business  to  cause  all,  that  seemed 
heterodox  to  him,  to  be  overwhelmed  with  anathemas. 
But  it  is  very  easy  to  conceive,  that  his  good  reputation, 
and  the  ardor  wherewith  he  prosecuted  the  condemna- 
tion of  his  adversaries,  surprised  the  judges,  and  made 
■the  accused  persons  sink  under  the  weight  of  these 
irregular  proceedings."  "  They  do  not  do  liim  justice, 
who  call  him  only  a  hound,  or  a  mastiff  dog;  he  ought, 
in  some  sense,  to  be  compared  to  Nimrod,  and  styled  a 
might !j  hunter  before  the  Lord." 

Abelard's  scholars,  —  especially  the  young  and  en- 
thusiastic part  of  them,  —  defended  their  master,  with 
the  keen  wit  and  exquisite  sarcasm,  for  which  the 
French  were  remarkable,  even  then.  But  the  philoso- 
pher himself,  weary  of  conflict,  worn  down  by  repeated 
.calamities,  yielded  to  the  tide  of  trouble,  and  became 
reconciled  with  the  Argus  of  the  Church.  He  offered 
.to  strike  out  of  his  works  whatever  ofl'ended  orthodox 
•ears,  and  to  renounce  both  his  school  and  his  study. 


THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD.  103 

This  reconciliation,  —  as  men  call  it,  —  was  effected 
by  Peter  the  Venerable,  Abbot  of  Clugny,  who  received 
Abelard  into  his  establishment,  where,  and^^t  the  more 
healthy  cloister  of  Chalons  sur  la  Saone,  he  spent  the 
brief  and  bitter  remnant  of  his  days,  and  ended  a  life, 
at  once  the  brightest  and  most  sad  that  appears  in  the 
middle  ages.  Few  men  have  been  so  often  misjudged 
and  abused  as  he.  Fate  seemed  to  pursue  him  with  a 
fiery  sword,  and  the  furies,  —  Ambition,  Hatred,  Fear, 
—  to  scourge  him  with  their  bloody  scorpion  whip, 
through  life.  Bernard  rejoiced  that  he  had  reduced 
that  eloquent  voice  to  silence,  and  restored  tranquillity 
to  the  churches !  So  the  old  Romans,  after  they  had 
desolated  a  province,  "  proclaimed  peace,  where  they 
had  made  only  solitude."  But,  though  he  went  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  his  spirit  passed  into 
the  ages,  and  lives  even  now.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to 
kill  a  man,  or  to  shut  him  up  in  a  cloister,  especially  if 
he  is  old  or  constitutionally  timid.  To  burn  a  heretic 
is  no  difficult  matter,  for  the  weakest  princes  have, 
perhaps,  burned  the  most.  But  to  suppress  heresy ; 
to  stay  thought :  or  stop  the  truth  thereby,  the  world 
has  not  found  so  easy.  Bernard  could  cut  off  the 
hydra's  head;  but  others  sprouted  anew.  What  was 
personal  in  Abelard  died,  or  faded  out  of  the  pub- 
lic mind.  But  the  scorn  of  whatever  is  false ;  the  love 
of  truth  ;  the  desire  of  a  divine  life,  burnt  in  many  a 
young  heart,  like  a  fire  in  the  forest,  and  would  not  be 
put  down. 

Arnold  of  Brescia  was  among  these.  The  corruption 
of  the  clergy  ;  the  strife  between  the  emperors  and  the 
popes;  the  increasing  study  of  the  Roman  law;  the 
general  advance  of  knowledge,  all  favored  his  design 
of  founding  a  true  Church  on  the  earth,  which  could 


104  THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD. 

offer  no  bribes,  and  claim  no  secular  power.  He  fell 
back  on  primitive  Christianity,  and  preached  it  with  a 
soul  of  fire.  He  held  up  to  shame  the  conduct  and  life 
of  the  clergy.  At  Bernard's  suggestion,  he  was  excom- 
municated and  condemned  to  a  cloister.  He  refused  to 
make  his  peace  as  his  master  had  done,  and  finding  few 
disposed  to  enforce  the  papal  sentence,  went  to  Zurich, 
where  even  the  bishop  tolerated  him.  Guido  a  Castel- 
lisj  through  the  pope's  legate,  received  him  kindly,  and 
took  little  heed  to  Bernard's  admonitory  letters.  After 
the  death  of  Innocent  the  Third,  Arnold  repaired  to 
Rome,  and  made  "no  small  stir"  among  the  people. 
But  we  pass  over  all  this,  and  the  troubles  about  the 
popes,  and  come  down  to  the  crusade,  and  the  admin- 
istration of  Eugene  the  Third,  —  the  friend  and  pupil 
of  Bernard. 

Celestine  the  Second,  the  successor  of  Innocent, 
filled  the  papal  chair  but  four  months.  Lucian  the 
Second,  the  next  pope,  lived  but  a  short  time  after  his 
''election,  and  when  Eugene  the  Third  was  elected,  the 
confusion  at  Rome  forced  him  to  take  refuge  in  Viterbo, 
where  he  speedily  excommunicated  Arnold,  no  doubt  to 
the  great  satisfaction  of  his  old  persecutor.  Bernard 
wrote  letters  to  the  Romans,  exhorting  them  to  receive 
Eugene  as  their  father.  But  these  falling  fruitless  to 
the  ground,  he  tried  Conrad,  his  old  enemy,  exhorting 
him  to  revenge  the  Pope.  "  Gird  on  the  sword.  Give 
to  yourself,  as  Caesar,  what  is  Caesar's,  and  to  God, 
what  is  God's."  "  God  forbid,"  says  he,  "  that  the 
power  of  the  nation,  the  insolence  of  the  rabble  should 
hold  out  a  moment  before  the  eyes  of  the  monarch." 
Bernard  exerted  himself  with  all  his  might  to  sustain 
his  friend  in  the  chair  of  the  Church.  Meantime,  a 
great  event  was  gathering,  in  the  future,  and  coming 


THE    LIFE   OF   ST.   BERNARD.  105 

near  at  hand.  The  mountain  once  produced  a  mouse,  1 
as  the  story  goes  ;  but  here,  several  mice  produced  a  '- 
mountain.  The  occasion  of  a  new  crusade^was  as  fol- 
lows. Louis  the  Seventh  of  France  felt  some  natural 
compunctions  of  conscience  for  the  cruelties  he  had 
been  guilty  of  in  the  war  against  Theobald  of  Cham- 
pagne. He  hoped  to  efface  the  old  crime,  by  engaging 
in  a  new  war,  at  the  command  of  the  Church,  and  thus 
wash  the  old  blood  from  his  hands,  in  the  fresh  stream 
of  so  many  lives.  A  crusade  in  the  twelfth  century,  — 
it  stirred  men's  hearts,  as  a  line  of  gas  packets  to  the 
moon  would  do  in  our  day.  We  know  not  who  first 
proposed  the  new  enterprise,  but  Bernard  caught  readily 
at  the  idea,  and  called  on  the  pope  to  summon  all  Chris- 
tendom to  the  work.  Eugene  the  Third  knew  as  well 
as  Lord  Chatham,  that  when  a  brilliant  war  burns  in 
the  distance,  men  will  not  look  at  grievances  they  suffer 
at  home.  So  he  readily  favored  a  plan,  which  would 
strengthen  his  own  hands. 

At  that  day  it  was  easy  to  raise  armies.     Especially 
was  it  easy  to  raise  armies  for  a  crusade.     There  have 
always  been  sinners  enough  in  the  world  ;  sinners,  too,    , 
who  wished  their  guilt  might  be  wiped  off  all  at  once,     ] 
and    they    be    cleansed  of    their    old    leprosy  without 
trouble,  by  a  single  plunge  into  the  Jordan.     The  pope 
promised  that  all  sins,  however  great,  however  numer- 
ous and  deeply  ingrained,  should  be  all  wiped  out  for     j 
those  who  engaged  in  the  crusade,  on  condition  that    ' 
they    repented,  —  which    was    easily   done,    and    cost 
nothing,  —  and  joined  the  expedition  with  good  mo- 
tives. 

A  council  was  held  on  Easter-day.  But  the  castle  at 
Bezelay,  where  it  had  met,  would  not  hold  the  retainers 
of  the  church  militant.     The  assembly  adjourned  to  a 


106  THE   LIFE    OF   ST.   BERNARD. 

field.  Here  the  king  appeared  on  a  stage,  with  the  sign 
of  the  cross  on  his  back.  Bernard  was  beside  him,  and 
addressing  the  multitude,  he  poured  out  such  a  mol- 
ten tide  of  hot  words,  eloquent  and  persuasive,  that  the 
assembly  yielded  to  his  counsels,  and  shouted,  till  all 
rung  again,  —  To  the,  Cross,  To  the  Cross.  Mean- 
while, —  says  the  monkish  chronicler,  —  the  holy  Abbot 
wrought  miracles  more  plenteous  than  ever.  Miracles 
became  the  order  of  the  day,  almost  of  the  hour ;  for 
not  only  "  was  no  day  without  its  miracle  ;  "  but  "  one 
day  he  wrought  twenty.  Men,  blind  from  their  birth, 
received  sight ;  the  lame  walked  ;  men  withered  up  be- 
came fresh  again  at  his  word  ;  the  dumb  spake ;  the 
deaf  heard,  divine  grace  supplying  what  nature  lacked." 
Beruard's  zeal  burned  like  a  rocket,  kindling  as  it  rose. 
He  declaimed  with  fiery  eloquence,  and  wrote  letters, 
and  preached,  and  watched,  and  fasted,  and  prayed,  to 
a  degree  almost  exceeding  belief.  But  the  most  atten- 
uated body  sometimes  becomes  powerful  under  the  pres- 
sure of  a  giant  will.  He  labored  with  good  effect ;  for 
he  soon  writes  in  triumph  to  the  pope ;  "  The  cities  and 
castles  are  getting  empty,  and  seven  women  can  scarcely 
find  one  man  ;  wives  are  widowed  while  their  husbands 
are  yet  alive !  "  A  great  assembly  once  demanded  Ber- 
nard himself  as  the  leader  of  the  host ;  but  the  wily 
monk  knew  how  to  make  excuses.  "  It  is  too  foreign 
to  my  holy  office ; "  precious  scruple,  of  a  man  who 
preached  and  got  up  the  whole  affair  I  He  journeyed 
through  France,  fanning  the  flame.  In  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Rhine,  he  found  one  Ralph,  an  ignorant 
monk,  who  had  excited  many  to  nuirder  the  Jews, 
thinking,  no  doubt,  he  did  great  honor  to  Jesus  by 
slaying  the  poor  remnant  of  that  nation,  which  pro- 
duced the  Bible,  both  Old  Testament  and  New  Testa- 


THE   LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  107 

ment,  and  gave  birth  to  the  Saviour,  and  the  "  mother 
of  God."  Bernard,  to  his  praise  be  it  spoken,  thought 
it  better  to  convert  the  Jews  than  to  kill  J;hem  ;  and 
really,  monk  as  he  was,  took  sides  with  the  oppressed 
race. 

Conrad,  —  the  German  emperor,  —  was  averse  to 
the  crusade,  and  for  the  best  reason.  Bernard  must  at- 
tempt to  bring  him  over ;  and  here  the  greatness  of  his 
influence  and  the  triumph  of  his  genius  are  seen  in  all 
their  lustre.  He  had  an  interview  with  Conrad,  and  the 
result  was  unfavorable.  He  gave  up  the  attempt  for 
the  moment,  and  waited  his  time.  But  on  Christmas 
day,  after  settling  some  difficulties,  and  healing  some 
dissensions  among  the  great  men  of  Germany,  he  ex- 
horted the  nobles  and  emperor  to  the  work.  Three 
days  later,  in  private,  he  advised  the  emperor  to  accept 
so  easy  a  penance,  and  wash  out  his  many  sins.  Soon 
after  he  celebrated  the  mass  before  the  court,  and  un- 
expectedly delivered  a  sermon  relating  to  the  crusade. 
At  the  end  of  the  ceremony,  he  went  to  the  emperor, 
in  the  church.  He  addressed  him  as  though  he  was  a 
private  man  ;  described  the  last  judgment,  and  the 
consternation  of  a  man  unable  to  give  God  an  an- 
swer, if  he  had  not  done  his  best.  He  spoke  of  Con- 
rad's blessings,  his  wealth,  power,  strength  of  body  and 
mind.  Conrad  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed  forth,  "  I 
am  ready  to  serve  him.  He  himself  exhorts  me."  A 
scream  of  joy  followed,  from  all  who  filled  the  church. 
Bernard  took  a  consecrated  banner  from  the  altar,  and 
placed  it  in  Conrad's  hands,  and  the  work  was  done.* 

*  The  following  sentence,  from  his  appeal  to  the  German  nation, 
is  curious,  and  a  fair  specimen  of  his  style  of  address.  "  The  earth 
trembles  and  quakes  because  the  God  of  Heaven  is  afraid  he  shall 
lose  his   land  ;  his  land,  I  say,  where  the  "Word  of  the   Heavenly 


108  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

After  the  crusade  was  fairly  on  its  feet,  and  the  last 
straggler  of  the  army  was  out  of  sight,  Bernard  returned 
to  his  cloister,  and  his  old  work,  hunting  heretics ;  and 
no  English  squire  ever  loved  to  unearth  an  otter,  better 
than  the  good  Abbot  to  scent  a  heretic,  and  drive  him 
out  of  the  Church.  He  found  no  lack  of  employment 
in  this  agreeable  occupation.  The  spirit  of  Abelard 
was  not  yet  laid.  It  stood  in  the  background  of  the 
Church,  and  made  mouths  at  the  crusade ;  nay,  at 
orthodoxy  itself.  Protean  in  its  nature,  it  assumed  all 
manner  of  forms,  most  frightful  to  Catholic  believers. 
The  metaphysics  of  the  Trinity  opened  a  wide  field  for 
philosophical  inquiry  and  speculation.  The  Cerberus 
of  Heresy  bayed  loud  at  the  Church.  Nominalism, 
Realism,  and  Scholasticism,  all  were  at  feud,  and  each 
engendered  its  band  of  heretics.  Among  these  was 
Gilbert  of  Poictiers,  —  often  called  Porretanus,  —  a  man 
allied  to  Abelard  by  a  kindred  love  of  philosophy,  but 
differing  widely  from  his  conclusions.  Though  a  bishop, 
he  was  soon  accused  before  the  pope,  and  Bernard  was 
easily  put  upon  the  scent.  He  accused  Gilbert  in  a 
council  at  Paris,  but  he  found  more  than  his  equal,  for 
Cxilbert  could  "  parry,  pass,  and  ward,"  and  was  well 
skilled  in  the  dazzling  fence  of  dialectics.  He  would 
not  be  silent,  like  Abelard ;  he  had  all  the  weapons  of 
logic  at  command;  could  quote  councils  and  fathers 
readily  as  the  paternoster  or  decalogue,  and,  what  was 
still  more  important  in  that  crisis,  his  friends  and  pupils 
ivere  great  men  ;  some  of  them  cardinals,  who,  however, 
were  fearful  of  offending  Bernard.  The  whole  affair 
was  referred  to  the  great  council  at  Rheims.    When  the 

Father  was  affianced  for  more  than  twenty  years,  teaching  and  con- 
versing; with  men,  —  his  land,  glorified  by  his  miracles,  sanctified  by 
his  blood,"  etc. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  109 

dispute  had  outlasted  the  patience  of  the  pope  and 
the  cardinals,  the  latter  said,  "  We  will  now  decide." 
Whereupon  Bernard,  fearing  the  result,  hastjJLy  collected 
his  friends,  telling  them,  that  "  Gilbert  must  be  put 
down."  So  they  drew  up  a  paper,  condemning  him,, 
and  sent  it  to  the  pope,  for  whom  it  was  a  cake  of  the- 
right  leaven.  But  the  cardinals  were  very  justly 
offended  because  the  pope  had  violated  justice,  and 
preferred  the  opinion  of  one  man  to  the  united  council.. 
The  head  of  the  Church  knew  not  which  way  to  turn. 
Bernard  was  called  in  to  end  the  troubles.  He  recon- 
ciled Gilbert,  who  shook  hands  with  his  foes,  and  went 
home  in  greater  honor  than  ever  before. 

He  who  begins  to  pursue  heretics,  jfinds  his  work  in- 
crease before  him.  In  the  twelfth  century,  there  were 
men  in  no  small  number,  whom  the  Church  could  not 
feed.  They  turned  away  from  cold  absti'actions  and 
lifeless  forms,  to  warm  and  living  love  for  man  and 
God ;  they  shrunk  away  from  the  contaminating  breath 
of  emaciated  monks,  and  ambitious  cardinals,  to  fresh 
and  glowing  nature,  which  still  reflected  the  unfading 
goodness  of  the  Infinite.  These  were  men,  who  took 
what  was  good,  where  they  could  find  it,  ^nd  so  found 
manna  even  in  the  wilderness.  They  were  content  tO' 
sit  on  the  brink  of  the  well  of  Truth,  and  watch  the 
large,  silent  faces  of  the  stars  reflected  from  its  tranquil 
deeps,  which  they  did  not  ruffle,  while  they  drew  life- 
from  its  waters ;  men,  whose  inward  eye,  once  opened^ 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  could  never  again  be  closed,  but 
ever  looked  upwards  and  right  on,  for  Light  and  Life. 
These  men  might  be  branded  as  heretics,  scourged  in 
the  market-place  for  infidelity,  or  burned  at  high  noon: 
for  atheism.  The  natural  man  does  not  understand  the 
things  of  the  Spirit.     They  had  too  much  religion  to  be 

10 


110  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

understood  by  their  contemporaries ;  they  were  too  far 
above  them  for  their  sympathy,  too  far  before  them  for 
their  comprehension.     No  doubt  these  men  were  often 
mistaken,  fanatical ;  their  minds  overclouded,  and  their 
hearts  filled  with  bigotry.     Still,  it  is  in  them  that  we 
find  the  religion  of  the  age.     The  veriest  tyro  in  eccle- 
siastical history  knows,  that  the  true  life  of  God  in  the 
soul,  from  the  third  century  downwards,  has  displayed 
itself  out  of  the  established  Church,  and  not  in  it.     It 
would   be   both  curious  and  instructive  to   trace   the 
growth  of  Protestantism  from  Paul  down  to   Luther, 
and  notice  the  various  phases  it  assumed,  of  mysticism 
or  rationalism,  as  the  heart  or  the  head  uttered  the  pro- 
test, and  consider  the  treatment  it  met  with  from  men 
of  a  few  good  rules,  of  much  ambition,  and  little  eleva- 
tion of  character.     The  mass  of  men  is  too  often  eager 
to  punish  both  such  as  loiter  in  the  rear,  and  such  as 
hurry  in  the  front,  —  especially  the  latter.     Perhaps  this 
contagion  of   heresy,  this  epidemic  of  non-conformity, 
like  Christianity  itself,  came  from  the  East,  where  every 
religion  that  has  taken  a  strong  hold  of  the  heart  has 
had   its   home.     The  Gnostics   and    Manicheans,  and 
men  of  mor^  mystical  piety,  for  whom  the  blind  ortho- 
doxy of  the  Church  offered  little  attraction,  —  these  men 
fattened  the  Christian  soil  with  their  blood,  in  the  fifth, 
sixth,  and  seventh  centuries.     Their  bones  fell  still  more 
abundantly  in  the  two  ages  that   followed.     But,   in 
countries  where  Christianity  was  newly  introduced,  the 
obnoxious  sects  took  root,  and  flourished.     The  tumults 
of  the  tenth  century  brought  them  to  Italy,  France,  and 
Germany.     Heresy   spread   like   the   plague  ;    no   one 
knows  how,  or  by  whom  it  is  propagated.     Rather  let 
us  say.  Truth  passes,  like  morning,  from  land  to  land, 
and  men,  who  all  night  long  have  read  with  bleared 


THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD.  Ill 

eyes  by  the  candle  of  tradition,  wonder  at  the  light 
which  streams  through  the  crevice  of  window  and  wall. 
In  the  eleventh  century,  these  "  heretical,,  doctrines " 
were  still  more  common.  The  headsman's  axe 
gleamed  over  many  a  Christian  neck.  But  the  neck 
of  Heresy  was  not  cut  off;  for  in  the  twelfth  century 
there  were  still  some  to  be  done  to  death.  It  is  sad  to 
reflect,  that  every  advance  in  science,  art,  freedom,  and 
religion,  has  been  bought  with  the  best  hearts  that  ever 
beat,  who  have  poured  out  the  stream  of  their  lives,  and 
thus  formed  a  deep,  wide  channel  of  blood,  which  has 
upborne  and  carried  forward  the  ark  of  Humanity, 
Liberty,  and  Truth,  from  the  dawn  of  things  till  this 
day.  On  every  lofty  path,  where  man  treads  securely 
now,  naked  feet  have  bled,  as  they  trampled  the  flint 
into  dust.  How  many  forerunners  leave  their  heroic 
heads  in  a  charger;  and  even  the  Saviour  must  hang 
upon  the  cross,  before  men  can  be  redeemed.  In  Ber- 
nard's time,  these  reformers  came  to  a  world  lying  in 
wickedness;  they  came  to  priests,  still  more  wicked, 
who  attempted  to  heal  the  world  by  church  ceremonies, 
theological  dogmas,  councils,  and  convents,  and  "com- 
munion in  one  kind."  There  were  a  few,  who  wished 
to  fall  back  on  morality  and  religion.  They  counted 
the  Bible  as  the  finite  stream,  that  comes  from  the  in- 
finite source  and  waters  the  gardens  of  the  earth.  They 
took  their  stand  on  primitive  Christianity  ;  when  they 
spoke,  it  was  from  heart  to  heart,  and  so  the  common 
people  heard  them  gladly. 

We  lament  to  say,  that  Bernard,  great  man  as  he 
was,  good  and  pious  as  we  know  him  to  have  been,  set 
his  face  seriously  against  all  these  men,  and  thought  he 
did  God  service  by  hunting  them  to  death.  His  gar- 
ments were  rolled  in  the  blood  of  these  innocents.     One 


112  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.   BERNARD. 

of  his  friends,  Everwin  of  Steinfeld,  tells  him  he  has 
"written  enough  against  the  pharisaism  of  Christians ; 
now  lift  up  your  voice  against  the  heretics,  who  are 
come  into  all  the  churches,  like  a  breath  from  hell." 
Among  the  most  eminent  of  these  reformers  and  here- 
tics were  Peter  of  Bruis,  founder  of  the  Petrobrusians, 
and  Henry  of  Lausanne.  Bernard  signalized  himself 
in  attacking  these  men,  though  with  various  success. 
On  a  certain  occasion,  some  heretics  were  burned  in  a 
remote  district,  and  Everwin,  writing  an  account  of  the 
affair,  and,  as  usual,  throwing  all  the  blame  on  the  peo- 
ple, wonders  that  these  limbs  of  the  devil,  in  their  heresy, 
could  exhibit  such  steadfastness  in  suffering  the  most 
cruel  tortures,  as  was  scarce  ever  found  even  among 
pious  orthodox  Christians.*  The  monk's  wonder  is 
quite  instructive.  In  one  of  his  letters,  Bernard  thus 
complains  of  the  desolations  wrought  by  the  heretics. 
"  The  churches  are  shunned  as  if  they  were  synagogues; 
the  sanctuary  of  God  is  no  longer  reckoned  holy;  the 
sacraments  are  not  honored ;  the  festivals  not  celebrated. 
Men  die  in  their  sins;  their  souls  are  brought  into  the 
dreadful  judgments  of  God,  not  reconciled  by  penance; 
not  confirmed  by  taking  the  Last  Supper."  Yet,  even 
among  these  heretics,  Bernard  was  nearly  all-powerful. 
He  came  to  the  city  Albigeois,  the  head-quarters  of 
these  men,  and  did  wonders.  The  following  anecdote 
exhibits  the  character  of  the  Saint,  and  the  age.  He 
once  preached  against  the  heretics  at  Toulouse,  and, 
finishing  his  sermon,  mounted  his  horse  to  ride  off.  In 
presence  of  the  crowd,  one  of  the  dissenters  said;  "  Your 
horse,  good  Abbot,  is  fatter  and  better  fed  than  the  beast 
of  our  Master,  much  as  you  say  against  him."     "  I  do 

*  Ncaiulcr,  p.  244. 


THE    LIFE    OF    ST.    BERNARD.  113 

not  deny  it,"  said  Bernard,  with  a  friendly  look;  "  It  is 
the  nature  of  the  beast  to  be  fat ;  not  by  our  horses,  but 
by  ourselves,  are  we  to  be  judged  before  God."  He 
then  laid  bare  his  neck,  and  showed,  naked,  his  meagre 
and  attenuated  breast.  This  was,  for  the  public,  the 
most  perfect  confutation  of  the  heretic  I 

But  we  must,  however  unwilling,  hasten  from  these 
scenes.  In  1148,  Pope  Eugene  visited  Bernard  in  the 
cloister  at  Clairvaux,  and  remained  with  him  some 
time.  It  was  a  beautiful  homage  from  the  conventional 
Head  of  the  Church  to  a  poor  monk,  whom  piety,  zeal, 
and  greatness  of  soul,  had  raised  above  all  the  heroes 
of  convention.  Bishop  Malachias,  who  had  done  a 
great  work  in  Ireland,  came  to  lay  his  bones  at  Clair- 
vaux. But  bitter  disappointment  came  at  last  upon 
Bernard.  The  crusade,  for  which  he  had  preached,  and 
prophesied,  and  worked  miracles,  and  travelled  over  half 
Europe,  was  a  failure.  Its  ruin  was  total.  Half-smoth- 
ered invectives  and  fierce  denunciations  arose  against 
him.  All  his  predictions  fell  to  the  ground  ;  the  mira- 
cles he  wrought ;  the  vaunting  boast  and  fiery  words  he 
had  uttered  came  back  on  the  head  of  the  poor  monk, 
mingled  with  the  scorn  of  the  nations.  He  had  soph- 
istry enough  to  refer  the  calamity  to  the  sins  of  the 
crusaders.  But  this  availed  little,  for  he  had  promised 
their  sins  should  be  forgiven,  and  expressly  called 
notorious  sinners  to  the  task.  So  he  laid  the  blame  \\  ^ 
upon  the  Almighty,  who  had  assigned  him  his  mis-  I  1  ; 
sion,  gave  him  the  promise,  and  "  confirmed  it  by  mira-  ' 
cles." 

Weary  and  disappointed,  the  poor  Abbot  betook 
himself  to  finish  his  greatest  literary  work,  the  cele- 
brated treatise  de  Consider atione,  a  sort  of  manual  for 
the  popes,  giving  a  picture  of  an  ideal  pope,  a  book  of 

10* 


114  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD.  » 

HO  small  merit.  This  was  the  latest  work  of  his  life, 
and  its  concluding  lines  flowed  forth  from  lips  longing 
to  give  up  the  ghost.  His  usefulness  continued  to  the 
last.  His  letters  went  on  as  usual ;  he  exhorted  his 
friends  and  pupils.  But  the  shadow  of  defeat  was  on 
the  man.  It  grew  thicker  and  blacker  each  day.  His 
letter  to  Andreas,  written  shortly  before  his  death, 
shows  how  a  monk  can  feel,  and  a  man,  whose  word 
then  shook  the  world,  can  be  overcome.  All  his  life 
long,  he  had  looked  to  the  west,  and  found  no  comfort, 
as  the  rising  luminary  shed  new  day  over  the  world. 
But  even  on  his  death-bed,  cast  down  as  he  was,  he 
gave  proofs  of  that  mysterious  power  the  soul  exerts 
over  those  decaying  elements  wiiich  it  gathers  about 
itself,  a  power  remarkably  shown  in  his  whole  life. 
While  sick  almost  to  death,  scarce  any  strength  left  in 
him,  Hillin,  Archbishop  of  Friers,  came  to  ask  him  to 
mediate  between  the  people  of  Metz,  and  the  nobility 
of  the  neighborhood.  Bernard  arose  from  his  bed  ;  for- 
got his  weakness  ;  forgot  his  pain ;  forgot  his  disap- 
pointment. His  body  seemed  sinewy  and  strong  be- 
neath his  mighty  will.  He  met  the  delegates  of  the 
two  parties  on  the  banks  of  the  Moselle.  The  haughty 
knights,  flushed  with  victory,  refused  to  listen  to  his 
-terms,  and  withdrew,  "  not  wishing  the  sick  monk  fare- 
well." "  Peace  will  soon  come,"  said  he.  "  It  was 
foretold  me  last  night,  in  a  dream  ;  for  I  thought  I  was 
celebrating  mass,  and  was  ashamed  because  I  had  for- 
gotten the  chant,  Cdoria  in  Excelsis ;  and  so  I  sung  it 
with  you  to  the  end."  Before  the  time  arrived  for  sing- 
ing the  chant,  a  messenger  came  to  say,  the  knights 
were  penitent !  His  wOrds  had  done  the  work  in 
silence.  The  two  parties  were  reconciled,  and  the  kiss 
of  peace  exchanged.     He  returned  to  Clairvaux,  and  his 


THE   LIFE   OF    ST.   BERNARD.  115 

strong  spirit  soon  left  the  worn-out  frame  where  it  had 
long  dwelt  almost  in  defiance  of  the  body's  law.  He 
had  lived  sixty-three  years,  and  his  spirit  wa^^  mighty  in 
the  churches  long  after  his  death. 

His  biographer  Alanus  thus  describes  the  last  scene. 
"  About  the  third  hour  of  the  day,  (August  20,  1153,) 
this  shining  light  of  his  age,  this  holy  and  truly  blessed 
Abbot  passed  away  from  the  body  of  death  to  the  land 
of  the  living;  from  the  heavy  sobbings  and  abundant 
tears  of  his  friends,  standing  around  him,  to  the  chorus 
of  angels  chanting  continually,  with  Christ  at  their 
head.  Happy  that  soul,  which  rises  by  the  excellent 
grace  of  its  own  merits  ;  which  is  followed  by  the  pious 
vows  of  friends,  and  drawn  upwards  by  holy  desire  for 
things  above.  Happy  that  transition  from  labor  to  rest ; 
from  expectation  to  enjoyment  of  the  reward ;  from  the 
battle  to  the  triumph  ;  from  death  to  life ;  from  faith  to 
knowledge ;  from  a  pilgrimage  to  his  own  home  ;  from 
the  world  to  the  Father." 

In  stature.  Saint  Bernard  was  a  little  below  the  com- 
mon standard^;  his  hair  of  a  flaxen  color;  his  beard 
somewhat  reddish,  but  both  became  gray  as  he  grew 
,  old.  The  might  of  the  man  was  shown  in  his  counte- 
nance. Yet  his  face  had  a  peculiar  cheerfulness,  more 
of  heaven  than  of  earth,  and  his  eye  at  once  expressed 
the  serpent's  wisdom,  with  the  simplicity  of  the  dove. 
It  was  indifferent  to  him  whether  he  drank  oil,  or  wine, 
or  water.  He  was  dead  to  the  pleasures  of  the  table, 
and  to  all  sensual  delights.  He  could  walk  all  day  by 
the  lake  of  Lucerne,  and  never  see  it.  In  summing 
up  his  character,  we  must  allow  him  great  acuteness  of 
insight ;  a  force  of  will,  great  and  enduring  almost  be- 
yond belief,  —  a  will  like  that  of  Hannibal,  or  Simeon 


116  THE   LIFE   OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

the  Stylite,  which  shrank  at  no  difficulty,  and  held  out 
Promethean  to  the  end.  He  was  zealous  and  self-de- 
nying ;  but  narrow  in  his  self-denial,  and  a  bigot  in  his 
zeal.  He  was  pious,  —  beautifully  pious,  —  but  super- 
stitious withal.  In  a  formal  age,  no  man  loved  forms 
better  than  he,  or  clung  closer  to  the  letter,  when  it 
served  his  end.  His  writings  display  a  masculine  good 
sense ;  *  great  acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures,  which 
he  quotes  in  every  paragraph,  and  with  Augustine  and 
Ambrose,  "  with  whom  he  would  agree,  right  or 
wrong."!     He  hated  all  tyranny  but   the  tyranny  of 

*  His  works  are,  44  7  Letters ;  numerous  Sermons  on  all  the  Sun- 
days and  Festivals  in  the  year  ;  86  Sermons  on  the  Canticles  ;  a 
Treatise,  in  five  books,  de  Consideratione ;  another,  de  Officio 
Episcoporum,  de  Praacepto  et  Dispensatione ;  Apologia  ad  Guliel- 
mum  Abbatum  ;  this  contains  some  of  his  sharpest  rebukes  of  the 
monks  and  clergy.  De  laude  Novae  Milltire,  i.  e.  the  new  order  of 
knights  templars.  De  gradibus  humilitatis  ct  superbias,  de  gratia  et 
libero  arbitrio,  de  baptismo,  de  erroribus  Petri  Abelardi.  De  Vita 
S.  Malachite,  de  Cantu.  Besides  these,  there  are  many  works  attrib- 
uted to  him,  which  belong  to  others,  known  or  unknown.  Such 
arc  the  famous  "  Meditations  of  Saint  Bernard,"  which  are  some- 
times printed  in  English  in  the  same  volume  with  Saint  Augustine's 
Meditations.  No  Avriter  of  the  middle  ages  has  been  so  popular  as 
Bernard.  His  works  were  read  extensively  before  the  art  of  print- 
ing was  invented,  and  have  often  been  published  since  then.  The 
best  edition  is  that  of  Mabillon.  Paris.  1719.  2  vols,  folio.  A 
new  edition  has  recently  been  published,  (Paris.  1838.  4  vols.  Svo.) 
which  we  have  not  examined.  Besides,  he  wrote  a  Summa  Theo- 
logiae  not  noticed  by  Mabillon,  but  conuncnted  on  by  Gemon,  whose 
book  thereon  is  called  Florctu.t,  published  at  Paris,  1494,  1  vol.  4to. 
This  by  the  way  is  not  in  Dupin's  edition  of  Gerson,  1 706,  5  vols, 
fol.  It  is  noticed  in  Fleury,  Hist.  Eccl.  vol.  xiv.  p.  444,  ed.  Nismes, 
1779. 

f  His  reverence  for  the  authority  of  the  Church  was  most  uncom- 
promising. He  thought  it  had  power  to  change  the  words  of  Scrip- 
tures, and  make  the  Bible  better  by  the  change ;  "  Cum  in  Scripturis 


THE   LIFE   OP   ST.    BERNARD.  117 

the  Church.  Yet  his  heart  was  by  nature  gentle  ;  he 
could  take  pains  to  rescue  a  hen  from  the  hawk ;  but 
would  yet  burn  men  at  the  stake  for^xplaining  the 
mystery  of  the  Trinity.  He  was  ambitious  as  Caesar  ; 
not  that  he  cared  for  the  circumstance  and  trappings  of 
authority,  but  he  loved  power  for  itself,  as  an  end.  All 
the  wax  of  Hymettus  could  not  close  his  ears  against 
this  syren,  nor  a  whole  Anticyra  heal  his  madness.  He 
lived  in  an  age  when  new  light  came  streaming  upon 
the  world,  ^^ut  he  called  on  men  to  close  their  shutters 
and  stir  their  fires.  Greek  and  Roman  letters,  then 
beginning  their  glorious  career  in  modern  times,  he 
hated  as  profane,  and  never  dreamed  of  the  wonders 
they  were  to  effect  for  art,  science,  religion,  yea,  for 
Christianity  itself.  He  was  a  man  of  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, not  of  the  twelfth.  Jts  spirit  culminated  most 
beautifully  in  him.  But  he  had  no  sympathy  for  those, 
who,  grateful  for  their  fathers'  progress,  would  yet  carry 
the  line  of  improvement  still  farther  on.  He  did  noth- 
ing directly  to  promote  a  pure  theology,  or  foster  philo- 
sophical views,  and  thus  to  emancipate  mankind  from 
their  long  thraldom.  Yet  he  did  much  remotely.  Fro- 
zen hands  are  best  warmed  in  snow.  Bernard  was  a 
mystic,*  and  the  age  was  growing  rational.  But  in 
his  mystic  flights  he  does  not  soar  so  sublime  as  the 
Pseudo-Dionysius,  or  Scotus  Erigena,  from  whom  his 
mysticism  seems  derived.  Still  less  has  he  the  depth 
of  Saint  Victor,  Tauler,  Eckart,  and  Nicolas  of  Basle, 

divinis  verba  vel  alterat,  vel  alternat,  fortior  est  ilia  compositio  quam 
posilio  prima  verborum."  —  Sermon  on  the  JVativitj/. 

*  On  his  JMysticism,  see  Ammon,  Fortbildung  des  Christonthums, 
Vol.  II.,  2d  edition,  p.  355,  seq.  Heinroth,  Gescliichte  und  Kritik 
der  I\Iysti(!ismus,  p.  324,  seq.  ;  and  Scbmid,  Der  Mysticismus  der 
Mittelalter,  etc.,  p.  187,  seq. 


118  THE   LIFE    OF   ST.    BERNARD. 

or  the  profound  sweetness  of  Fenelon,  the  best,  perhaps, 
of  modern  mystical  Christians.  His  practical  tendency 
was  lead  to  the  wings  of  mystical  contemplation,  and 
the  very  strength  of  his  will  prevented  him  from  seeing 
Truth  as  other  mystics,  all  absorbed  in  contemplation. 
Yet  he  was  a  great  man,  and  without  him  the  world 
would  not  have  been  what  it  is.  Well  does  he  deserve 
the  praise  of  Luther,  "  if  there  ever  was  a  pious  monk, 
it  was  Saint  Bernard." 


IV. 

TRUTH   AGAINST  THE  WORLD* 


A.  PARABLE  OF  PAUL. 

One  day  Abdiel  found  Paul  at  Tarsus,  after  his 
Damascus  journey,  sitting  meek  and  thoughtful  at  the 
door  of  his  house ;  his  favorite  books,  and  the  instru- 
ments of  his  craft,  lying  neglected  beside  him.  "  Strange 
tidings  I  hear  of  you,"  said  the  sleek  Rabbi.  "  You 
also  have  become  a  follower  of  the  Nazarene !  What 
course  shall  you  pursue  after  your  precious  conver- 
sion ? "  "I  shall  go  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  all 
nations,"  said  the  new  convert,  gently.  "  I  shall  set  off 
to-morrow." 

The  Rabbf^  who  felt  a  sour  interest  in  Paul,  looked 
at  him  with  affected  incredulity  and  asked,  "  Do  you 
know  the  sacrifice  you  make  ?  You  must  leave  father 
and  friends;  the  society  of  the  Great  and  the  Wise. 
You  will  fare  hard  and  encounter  peril.  You  will 
be  impoverished  ;  called  hard  names  ;  persecuted  ; 
scourged ;  perhaps  put  to  death."  "  None  of  these 
things  move  me,"  said  Paul.     "  I  have  counted  the  cost. 

*  From  the  Dial  for  October,  1840. 


120  TRUTH   AGAINST  THE   WORLD. 

I  value  not  life  the  half  so  much  as  keeping  God's  Law, 
and  proclaiming  the  truth,  though  all  men  forbid.  I 
shall  walk  by  God's  light,  and  fear  not.  I  am  no  longer 
a  slave  to  the  old  Law  of  sin  and  death,  but  a  free  man 
of  God,  made  free  by  the  Law  of  the  Spirit  of  Life  in 
Christ  Jesus."  "  Here,"  rejoined  the  Rabbi,  "  you  have 
ease  and  fame ;  in  your  new  work  you  must  meet  toil, 
infamy,  and  death."  "  The  voice  of  God  says  Go," 
exclaimed  the  Apostle,  with  firmness,  "  I  am  ready  to 
spend  and  be  spent  in  the  cause  of  Truth." 

"  Die  then,"  roared  the  Rabbi,  "  like  a  Nazarene  fool 
and  unbelieving  Atheist,  as  .thou  art.  He  that  lusts 
after  new  things,  preferring  his  silly  convictions,  and 
that  whim  of  a  conscience,  to  solid  ease,  and  the 
advice  of  his  friends,  deserves  the  cross.  Die  in  thy 
folly.  Henceforth  I  disclaim  thee.  Call  me  kinsman 
no  more ! " 

Years  passed  over ;  the  word  of  God  grew  and  pre- 
vailed. One  day  it  was  whispered  at  Tarsus,  and  ran 
swiftly  from  mouth  to  mouth,  in  the  market-place, 
"  Paul,  the  apostate,  lies  in  chains  at  Rome,  daily  ex- 
pecting the  Lions.  His  next  trouble  will  be  his  last." 
And  Abdiel  said  to  his  sacerdotal  crones  in  the  syna- 
gogue, "  I  knew  it  would  come  to  this.  How  much 
better  to  have  kept  to  his  trade,  and  the  old  ways 
of  his  fathers  and  the  prophets,  not  heeding  that  whim 
of  a  conscience.  He  might  have  lived  respectably 
to  an  easy  old  age  at  Tarsus,  the  father  of  sons  and 
daughters.  Men  might  have  called  him  Rabbi  in  the 
streets." 

Thus  went  it  at  Tarsus.  But  meantime,  in  his  dun- 
geon at  Rome,  Paul  sat  comforted.  The  Lord  stood 
by  him  in  a  vision  and  said,  "  Fear  not,  Paul.  Thou 
hast  fought  the  good  fight.     Lo,  I  am  with  thee  to  the 


TRUTH   AGAINST   THE   WORLD.  121 

end  of  the  world."  The  tranquil  old  man  replied,  "  I 
know  whom  I  have  served,  and  am  thoroughly  per- 
suaded that  God  will  keep  what  I  have^committed  to 
him.  I  have  not  the  spirit  of  fear,  but  of  love,  and  a 
sound  mind.  I  shall  finish  my  course  with  joy,  for  I 
see  the  crown  of  Righteousness  laid  up  for  me,  and 
now  my  salvation  is  more  perfect,  and  my  hope  is 
higher,  than  when  first  I  believed." 

Then  in  his  heart  spoke  that  voice,  which  had  spoken 
before  on  the  mount  of  Transfiguration ;  "  Thou  also 
art  my  beloved  Son.     In  thee  I  am  well  pleased." 

11 


V. 

THOUGHTS   ON  LABOR* 


"  God  has  given  each  man  a  back  to  be  clothed,  a 
mouth  to  be  filled,  and  a  pair  of  hands  to  work  with." 
And  since  wherever  a  mouth  and  a  back  are  created  a 
pair  of  hands  also  is  provided,  the  inference  is  unavoid- 
able, that  the  hands  are  to  be  used  to  supply  the  needs 
of  the  mouth  and  the  back.  Now  as  there  is  one 
mouth  to  each  pair  of  hands,  and  each  mouth  must  be 
filled,  it  follows  quite  naturally,  that  if  a  single  pair  of 
hands  refuses  to  do  its  work,  then  the  mouth  goes 
hungry,  or,  which  is  worse,  the  work  is  done  by  other 
hands.  In  the  one  case,  the  supply  failing,  an  incon- 
venience is  suffered,  and  the  man  dies ;  in  the  other  he 
eats  and  wears  the  earnest  of  another  man's  work,  and 
so  a  wrong  is  inflicted.  The  law  of  nature  is  this,  "  If 
a  man  will  not  work  neither  shall  he  eat."  Still  further, 
God  has  so  beautifully  woven  together  the  web  of  life, 
with  its  warp  of  Fate,  and  its  woof  of  Freewill,  that  in 
addition  to  the  result  of  a  man's  duty,  when  faithfully 
done,  there  is  a  satisfaction  and  recompense  in  the  very 
discharge  thereof.     In  a  rational  state  of  things.  Duty 

*  From  the  Dial  for  April,  1841. 


THOUGHTS   ON  LABOR.  123 

and  Delight  travel  the  same  road,  sometimes  hand  in 
hand.     Labor  has  an  agreeable  end,  in  the  result  we 
gain ;  but  the  means  also  are  agreeable^  for  there  are 
pleasures  in  the  work  itself.     These  unexpected  com- 
pensations, the  gratuities  and  stray  gifts  of  Heaven,  are 
scattered  abundantly  in  life.     Thus  the  kindness  of  our 
friends,  the  love  of  our  children  is  of  itself  worth  a 
thousand  times  all  the  pains  we  take  on  their  account. 
Labor,  in  like  manner,  has  a  reflective  action,  and  gives 
the  working  man  a  blessing  over  and  above  the  natural 
result  which  he  looked  for.     The  duty  of  labor  is  writ- 
ten on  a  man's  body ;  in  the  stout  muscle  of  the  arm 
and  the  delicate  machinery  of  the    hand.     That  it  is 
congenial  to  our  nature  appears  from  the  alacrity  with 
which  children  apply  themselves  to  it,  and  find  pleasure 
in   the   work   itself,   without  regard   to  its  use.     The 
young  duck  does  not  more  naturally  betake  itself  to  the 
water,  than  the  boy  to  the  work  which  goes  on  around 
him.     There   is   some   work,    which   even    the    village 
sluggard  and  the  city  fop  love  to  do,  and  that  only  can 
they  do  well.     These  two  latter  facts  show  that  labor, 
in  some  degree,  is  no  less  a  pleasure  than  a  duty,  and 
prove,  that  man  is  not  by  nature  a  lazy  animal  who  is 
forced  by  Hunger  to  dig  and  spin. 

Yet  there  are  some  who  count  labor  a  curse  and  a 
punishment.  They  regard  the  necessity  of  work,  as 
the  greatest  evil  brought  on  us  by  the  "Fall;"  as  a 
curse  that  will  cling  to  our  last  sand.  Many  submit  to 
this  yoke,  and  toil,  and  save,  in  hope  to  leave  their  pos- 
terity out  of  the  reach  of  this  primitive  curse  ! 

Others,  still  more  foolish,  regard  it  as  a  disgrace. 
Young  men,  — the  children  of  honest  parents,  who, 
living  by  their  manly  and^  toil-hardened  hands,  bear  up 
the  burden  of  the  world  on  their  shoulders,  and  eat  with 


124  THOUGHTS   ON   LABOR. 

thankful  hearts  their  daily  bread,  won  in  the  sweat  of 
their  face,  —  are  ashamed  of  their  fathers'  occupation, 
and  forsaking  the  plough,  the  chisel,  or  the  forge,  seek 
a  livelihood  in  what  is  sometimes  named  a  more  re- 
spectable and  genteel  vocation ;  that  is,  in  a  calling 
which  demands  less  of  the  hands,  than  their  fathers' 
hardy  craft,  and  quite  often  less  of  the  head  likewise ; 
for  that  imbecility  which  drives  men  to  those  callings, 
has  its  seat  mostly  in  a  higher  region  than  the  hands. 
Affianced  damsels  beg  their  lovers  to  discover  (or  invent) 
some  ancestor  in  buckram  who  did  not  work.  The 
Sophomore  in  a  small  college  is  ashamed  of  his  father 
who  wears  a  blue  frock,  and  his  dusty  brother  who  toils 
with  the  saw  and  the  axe.  These  men,  after  they  have 
wiped  off  the  dirt  and  the  soot  of  their  early  life,  some- 
times become  arrant  coxcombs,  and  standing  like  the 
heads  of  Hermes  without  hands,  having  only  a  mouth, 
make  faces  at  such  as  continue  to  serve  the  State  by 
plain  handiwork.  Some  one  relates  an  anecdote,  which 
illustrates  quite  plainly  this  foolish  desire  of  young  men 
to  live  without  work.  It  happened  in  one  of  our  large 
towns,  that  a  Shopkeeper  and  a  Blacksmitli,  both  living 
in  the  same  street,  advertised  for  an  apprentice  on  the 
same  day.  In  a  given  time  fifty  beardless  youngsters 
applied  to  the  Haberdasher,  and  not  one  to  the  Smith, 
But  that  story  has  a  terrible  moral,  namely,  that  forty- 
and-nine  out  of  the  fifty  were  disappointed  at  the  out- 
set. 

It  were  to  be  wished  that  this  notion  of  labor  being 
disgraceful  was  confined  to  vain  young  men,  and  giddy 
maidens  of  idle  habits  and  weak  heads,  for  then  it 
would  be  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  diseases  of  early 
life,  which  we  know  must  come,  and  rejoice  when  our 
young  friends  have  happily  passed  through  it,  knowing 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  125 

it  is  one  of  "  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,"  but  is  not 
very  grievous,  and  comes  but  once  in  the  lifetime. 
This  aversion  to  labor,  this  notion  that  it^is  a  curse  and 
a  disgrace,  this  selfish  desire  to  escape  from  the  general 
and  natural  lot  of  man,  is  the  sacramental  sin  of  "  the 
better  class  "  in  our  great  cities.  The  children  of  the 
poor  pray  to  be  rid  of  work ;  and  what  son  of  a  rich 
man  learns  a  trade  or  tills  the  soil  with  his  own  hands  ? 
Many  men  look  on  the  ability  to  be  idle  as  the  most 
desirable  and  honorable  ability.  They  glory  in  being 
the  Mouth  that  consumes,  not  the  Hand  that  works. 
Yet  one  would  suppose  a  man  of  useless  hands  and 
idle  head,  in  the  midst  of  God's  world,  where  each  thing 
works  for  all ;  in  the  midst  of  the  toil  and  sweat  of  the 
human  race,  must  needs  make  an  apology  for  his  sloth, 
and  would  ask  pardon  for  violating  the  common  law, 
and  withdrawing  his  neck  from  the  general  yoke  of  hu- 
manity. Still  more  does  he  need  an  apology,  if  he  is 
active  only  in  getting  into  his  hands  the  result  of  others' 
work.  But  it  is  not  so.  The  man  who  is  rich  enough 
to  be  idle  values  himself  on  his  leisure ;  and  what  is 
worse,  others  value  him  for  it.  Active  men  must  make 
a  shamefaced  excuse  for  being  busy,  and  working  men 
for  their  toil,  as  if  business  and  toil  were  not  the  Duty 
of  all  and  the  support  of  the  world.  In  certain  countries 
men  are  divided  horizontally  into  two  classes,  the  men 
who  WORK  and  the  men  who  rule,  and  the  latter  de- 
spise the  employment  of  the  former  as  mean  and  degrad- 
ing. It  is  the  slave's  duty  to  plough,  said  a  Heathen 
poet,  and  a  freeman's  business  to  enjoy  at  leisure  the  fruit 
of  that  ploughing.  This  same  foolish  notion  finds  favor 
with  many  here.  It  is  a  remnant  of  those  barbarous 
times,  when  all  labor  was  performed  by  serfs  and  bonds- 
men, and  exemption  from  toil  was  the  exclusive  sign  of 

11* 


126  THOUGHTS   ON   LABOR. 

the  freeborn.  But  this  notion,  that  labor  is  disgraceful, 
conflicts  as  sharply  with  our  political  institutions,  as  it 
does  with  common  sense,  and  the  law  God  has  writ 
on  man.  An  old  author,  centuries  before  Christ,  was  so 
far  enlightened  on  this  point,  as  to  see  the  true  dignity 
of  manual  work,  and  to  say,  "  God  is  well  pleased 
with  honest  works  ;  he  suffers  the  laboring  man,  who 
ploughs  the  earth  by  night  and  day,  to  call  his  life 
most  noble.  If  he  is  good  and  true,  he  offers  continual 
sacrifice  to  God,  and  is  not  so  lustrous  in  his  dress  as 
in  his  heart." 

Manual  labor  is  a  blessing  and  a  dignity.     But  to 
state  the  case  on  its  least  favorable  issue,  admit  it  were 
both  a  disgrace  and  a  curse,  would  a  true  man  desire 
to  escape  it  for  himself,  and  leave  the  curse  to  fall  on 
other   men  ?      Certainly    not.      The    generous    soldier 
fronts  death,  and  charges  in  the  cannon's   mouth  ;   it 
is  the  coward  who  lingers  behind.     If  labor  were  hate- 
ful, as  the  proud  would  have  us  believe,  then  they  who 
bear  its  burdens,  and  feed  and  clothe  the  human  race, 
and  fetch  and  carry  for  them,  should  be  honored  as 
those  have  always  been,  who  defend  society  in  war.     If 
it  be  glorious,  as  the  world  fancies,  to  repel  a  human 
foe,  how  mvich  more  is  he  to  be  honored  who  stands  up 
when   Want  comes  upon  us,  like  an  armed  man,  and 
puts  him  to  rout  ?     One  would  fancy  the  world  was 
imad,  when  it  bowed  in  reverence  to  those  who  by  supe- 
rior cunning  possessed  themselves  of  the  earnings   of 
•others,  while  it  made  wide  the  mouth  and  drew  out  the 
tongue  at  such   as  do  the   world's  work.     "  Without 
these,"  said  an  ancient,  "  cannot  a  city  be  inhabited,  but 
they  shall  not  be  sought  for  in  public  council,  nor  sit 
iliigh  in  the  congregation  ; "  and  those   few  men  and 
WsOmen  who  are  misnamed  the   World,  in  their  wis- 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  127 

dom  have  confirmed  the  saying.  Thus  they  honor 
those  who  sit  in  idleness  and  ease ;  they  extol  such  as 
defend  a  state  with  arms,  or  those  whcrcollect  in  their 
hands  the  result  of  Asiatic  or  American  industry  ;  but 
pass  by  with  contempt  the  men  who  rear  corn  and  cat- 
tle, and  weave  and  spin,  and  fish  and  build  for  the 
whole  human  race.  Yet  if  the  state  of  labor  were  so 
hard  and  disgraceful  as  some  fancy,  the  sluggard  in 
fine  raiment  and  that  trim  figure  —  which,  like  the  lilies 
in  the  Scripture,  neither  toils  nor  spins,  and  is  yet 
clothed  in  more  glory  than  Solomon  —  would  both  bow 
down  before  Colliers  and  Farmers,  and  bless  them  as 
the  benefactors  of  the  race.  Christianity  has  gone  still 
further,  and  makes  a  man's  greatness  consist  in  the 
amount  of  service  he  renders  to  the  world.  Certainly 
he  is  the  most  honorable  who  by  his  head  or  his  hand 
does  the  greatest  and  best  work  for  his  race.  The  no- 
blest soul  the  world  ever  saw  appeared  not  in  the  ranks 
of  the  indolent ;  but  "  took  on  him  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant," and  when  he  washed  his  disciples'  feet,  meant 
something  not  very  generally  understood  perhaps  in  the 
nineteenth  century. 

Now  manual  labor,  though  an  unavoidable  duty ; 
though  designed  as  a  blessing,  and  naturally  both  a 
pleasure  and  a  dignity,  is  often  abused,  till,  by  its  terri- 
ble excess,  it  becomes  really  a  punishment  and  a  curse. 
It  is  only  a  proper  amount  of  work  that  is  a  blessing. 
Too  much  of  it  wears  out  the  body  before  its  time  ; 
cripples  the  mind,  debases  the  soul ;  blunts  the  senses, 
and  chills  the  affections.  It  makes  a  man  a  spinning- 
jenny,  or  a  ploughing  machine,  and  not  "  a  being  of  a 
large  discourse,  that  looks  before  and  after."  He  ceases 
to  be  a  man,  and  becomes  a  thing. 


128  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

In  a  rational  and  natural  state  of  society,  —  that  is, 
one  in  which  every  man  went  forward  towards  the  true 
end  he  was  designed  to  reach;  towards' perfection  in 
the  use  of  all  his  senses  ;  towards  perfection  in  wisdom, 
virtue,  affection,  and  religion,  —  labor  would  never  in- 
terfere with  the  culture  of  what  was  best  in  each  man. 
His  daily  business  would  be  a  school  to  aid  in  develop- 
ing the  whole  man,  body  and  soul,  because  he  would 
then  do  what  nature  fitted  him  to  do.  Then  his  busi- 
ness would  be  really  his  calling.  The  diversity  of  gifts 
is  quite  equal  to  the  diversity  of  work  to  be  done. 
There  is  some  one  thing  which  each  man  can  do  with 
pleasure,  and  better  than  any  other  man ;  because  he 
was  born  to  do  it.  Then  all  men  would  labor,  each  at 
his  proper  vocation,  and  an  excellent  farmer  would  not 
be  spoiled  to  make  a  poor  lawyer,  a  blundering  physi- 
cian, or  a  preacher,  who  puts  the  world  asleep.  Then 
a  small  body  of  men  would  not  be  pampered  in  indo- 
lence, to  grow  up  into  gouty  worthlessness,  and  die  of 
inertia ;  nor  would  the  large  part  of  men  be  worn  down 
as  now  by  excessive  toil  before  half  their  life  is  spent. 
They  would  not  be  so  severely  tasked  as  to  have  no 
time  to  read,  think,  and  converse.  When  he  walked 
abroad,  the  laboring  man  would  not  be  forced  to  catch 
mere  transient  glimpses  of  the  flowers  by  the  way-side, 
or  the  stars  over  his  head,  as  the  dogs,  it  is  said,  drink 
the  waters  of  the  Nile,  running  while  they  drink  afraid 
the  crocodile  should  seize  them  if  they  stop.  When  he 
looked  from  his  window  at  the  landscape.  Distress  need 
not  stare  at  him  from  every  bush.  lie  would  then  have 
leisure  to  cultivate  his  mind  and  heart  no  less  than  to 
do  the  world's  work. 

In  labor,  as  in  all  things  beside,  moderation  is  the 


THOUGHTS   ON  LABOR.  129 

law.  If  a  man  transgresses  and  becomes  intemperate 
in  his  work,  and  does  nothing  but  toil  with  the  hand, 
he  must  suffer.  We  educate  and  improve  only  the 
faculties  we  employ,  and  cultivate  most  what  we  use 
the  oftenest.  But  if  some  men  are  placed  in  such  cir- 
cumstances that  they  can  use  only  their  hands,  who  is 
to  be  blamed  if  they  are  ignorant,  vicious,  and,  in  a 
measure,  without  God  ?  Certainly  not  they.  Now  it 
is  a  fact,  notorious  as  the  sun  at  noonday,  that  such 
are  the  circumstances  of  many  men.  As  society  ad- 
vances in  refinement,  more  labor  is  needed  to  supply  its 
demands;  for  houses,  food,  apparel,  and  other  things 
must  be  refined  and  luxurious.  It  requires  more  work, 
therefore,  to  fill  the  mouth  and  clothe  the  back,  than  in 
simpler  times.  To  aggravate  the  difficulty,  some  escape 
from  their  share  of  this  labor,  by  superior  intelligence, 
shrewdness,  and  cunning ;  others  by  fraud  and  lies,  or 
by  inheriting  the  result  of  these  qualities  in  their  ances- 
tors. So  their  share  of  the  common  burden,  thus 
increased,  must  be  borne  by  other  hands,  which  are 
laden  already  with  more  than  enough.  Still  further, 
this  class  of  mouths,  forgetting  how  hard  it  is  to  work, 
and  not  having  their  desires  for  the  result  of  labor 
checked  by  the  sweat  necessary  to  satisfy  them,  but 
living  vicariously  by  other  men's  hands,  refuse  to  be 
content  with  the  simple  gratification  of  their  natural 
appetites.  So  Caprice  takes  the  place  of  Nature,  and 
must  also  be  satisfied.  Natural  wants  are  few ;  but  to 
artificial  desires  there  is  no  end.  When  each  man 
must  pay  the  natural  price,  and  so  earn  what  he  gets, 
the  hands  stop  the  mouth,  and  the  soreness  of  the  toil 
corrects  the  excess  of  desire,  and  if  it  do  not,  none  has 
cause  of  complaint,  for  the  man's  desire  is  allayed  by 
his    OWN   work.     Thus   if   Absalom   wishes   for   sweet 


130  THOUGHTS   ON  LABOK. 

cakes,  the  trouble  of  providing  them  checks  his  extrava- 
gant, or  unnatural  appetite.  But  when  the  Mouth  and 
Hand  are  on  difierent  bodies,  and  Absalom  can  coax 
his  sister,  or  bribe  his  friend,  or  compel  his  slave  to  fur- 
nish him  dainties,  the  natural  restraint  is  taken  from 
appetite,  and  it  runs  to  excess.  Fancy  must  be  ap- 
peased ;  peevishness  must  be  quieted ;  and  so  a  world 
of  work  is  needed  to  bear  the  burdens  which  those 
men  bind,  and  lay  on  men's  shoulders,  but  will  not 
move  with  one  of  their  fingers.  The  class  of  Mouths 
thus  commits  a  sin,  which  the  class  of  Hands  must 
expiate. 

Thus,  by  the  treachery  of  one  part  of  society,  in 
avoiding  their  share  of  the  work;  by  their  tyranny  in 
increasing  the  burden  of  the  world ;  an  evil  is  produced 
quite  unknown  in  a  simpler  state  of  life,  and  a  man  of 
but  common  capacities  not  born  to  wealth,  in  order  to 
insure  a  subsistence  for  himself  and  his  family,  must 
work  with  his  hands  so  large  a  part  of  his  time,  that 
nothing  is  left  for  intellectual,  moral,  aesthetic,  and  re- 
ligious improvement.  He  cannot  look  at  the  world  ; 
talk  with  his  wife;  read  his  Bible,  nor  pray  to  God,  but 
Poverty  knocks  at  the  door,  and  hurries  him  to  his 
work.  He  is  rude  in  mind  before  he  begins  his  work, 
and  his  work  does  not  refine  him.  Men  have  attempted 
long  enough  to  wink  this  matter  out  of  sight,  but  it  will 
not  be  put  down.  It  may  be  worse  in  other  countries, 
but  it  is  bad  enough  in  New  England,  as  all  men  know 
who  have  made  the  experiment.  There  must  be  a 
great  sin  somewhere  in  that  state  of  society,  which 
allows  one  man  to  waste  day  and  night  in  sluggish- 
ness or  riot,  consuming  the  bread  of  whole  families, 
while  from  others,  equally  well-gifted  and  faithful,  it 
demands  twelve,  or  sixteen,  or  even  eighteen  hours  of 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  131 

hard  work  out  of  the  twenty-four,  and  then  leaves  the 
man  so  weary  and  worn,  that  he  is  capable  of  nothing 
but  sleep,  —  sleep  that  is  broken  by  no  dream !  Still 
worse  is  it  when  this  life  of  work  begins  so  early,  that 
the  man  has  no  fund  of  acquired  knowledge  on  which 
to  draw  for  mental  support  in  his  hours  of  toil.  To 
this  man  the  blessed  night  is  for  nothing  but  work  and 
sleep,  and  the  Sabbath  day  simply  what  Moses  com- 
manded, a  day  of  bodily  rest  for  Man,  as  for  his  Ox  and 
his  Ass.  Man  was  sent  into  this  world  to  use  his  best 
faculties  in  the  best  way,  and  thus  reach  the  high  end 
of  a  man.  How  can  he  do  this  while  so  large  a  part  of 
his  time  is  spent  in  unmitigated  work  ?  Truly  he  can- 
not. Hence  we  see,  that  while,  in  all  other  departments 
of  nature,  each  animal  lives  up  to  the  measure  of  his 
organization,  and  with  very  rare  exceptions  becomes 
perfect  after  his  kind,  the  greater  part  of  men  are  de- 
based and  belittled  ;  shortened  of  half  their  days,  and 
half  their  excellence,  so  that  you  are  surprised  to  find  a 
man  well  educated  whose  whole  life  is  hard  work. 
Thus  what  is  the  exception  in  nature,  through  our  per- 
versity becomes  the  rule  with  man.  Every  Blackbird 
is  a  blackbird  just  as  God  designs ;  but  how  many 
men  are  only  bodies  ?  If  a  man  is  placed  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, that  he  can  use  only  his  hands,  they  only  be- 
come broad  and  strong.  If  no  pains  be  taken  to  obtain 
dominion  over  the  flesh,  the  man  loses  his  birthright,, 
and  dies  a  victim  to  the  sin  of  society.  No  doubt  there- 
are  men,  born  under  the  worst  of  circumstances,  who 
have  redeemed  themselves  from  them,  and  obtained' 
an  excellence  of  intellectual  growth,  which  is  worthy 
of  wonder  ;  but  these  are  exceptions  to  the  gen- 
eral rule  ;  men  gifted  at  birth  with  a  power  almost 
superhuman.  It  is  not  from  exceptions  we  are  to* 
frame  the  law. 


132  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

Now  to  put  forward  the  worst  possible  aspect  of  the 
case.  Suppose  that  the  present  work  of  the  world  can 
only  be  performed  at  this  sacrifice,  which  is  the  best, 
that  the  work  should  be  done,  as  now,  and  seven  tenths 
of  men  and  women  should,  as  the  unavoidable  result 
of  their  toil,  be  cursed  with  extremity  of  labor,  and 
ignorance,  and  rudeness,  and  unmanly  life,  or  that  less 
of  this  work  be  done,  and,  for  the  sake  of  a  wide  spread 
and  generous  culture,  we  sleep  less  softly,  dine  on  hum- 
bler food,  dwell  in  mean  houses,  and  wear  leather,  like 
George  Fox  ?  There  is  no  doubt  what  answer  Com- 
mon Sense,  Reason,  and  Christianity  would  give  to  this 
question ;  for  wisdom,  virtue,  and  manhood,  are  as 
much  better  than  sumptuous  dinners,  fine  apparel,  and 
splendid  houses,  as  the  Soul  is  better  than  the  Senses. 
But  as  yet  we  are  slaves.  The  senses  overlay  the  soul. 
"We  serve  brass,  and  mahogany,  and  beef,  and  porter. 
The  class  of  Mouths  oppresses  the  class  of  Hands,  for 
the  strongest  and  most  cunning  of  the  latter  are  contiji- 
ually  pressing  into  the  ranks  of  the  former,  and  while 
they  increase  the  demand  for  work,  leave  their  own 
share  of  it  to  be  done  by  others.  Men  and  women  of 
humble  prospects  in  life,  while  building  the  connubial 
nest  that  is  to  shelter  them  and  their  children,  prove 
plainly  enough  their  thraldom  to  the  senses,  when  such 
an  outlay  of  upholstery  and  joiners'  work  is  demanded, 
and  so  little  is  required  that  appeals  to  Reason,  Imagi- 
nation, and  Faith.  Yet  when  the  mind  demands  little 
besides  time,  why  prepare  so  pompously  for  the  senses, 
that  she  cannot  have  this,  but  must  be  cheated  of  her 
due  ?  One  might  fancy  he  heard  the  stones  cry  out  of 
the  wall,  in  many  a  house,  and  say  to  the  foolish  peo- 
ple who  tenant  the  dwelling,  —  "  O,  ye  fools,  is  it  from 
the  work  of  the  joiner,  and  the  craft  of  those  who  are 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOK.  133 

cunning  in  stucco  and  paint,  and  are  skilful  to  weave 
and  to  spin,  and  work  in  marble  and  mortar,  that  ye 
expect  satisfaction  and  rest  for  your  sculs,  while  ye 
make  no  provision  for  what  is  noblest  and  immortal 
within  you  ?  But  ye  also  have  your  reward  I  "  The 
present  state  of  things,  in  respect  to  this  matter,  has  no 
such  excellences  that  it  should  not  be  changed.  It  is 
no  law  of  God,  that  when  Sin  gets  a  footing  in  the 
world  it  should  hold  on  forever,  nor  can  Folly  keep  its 
dominion  over  society  simply  by  right  of  "  adverse  pos- 
session." It  were  better  the  body  went  bare  and  hun- 
gry, rather  than  the  soul  should  starve.  Certainly  the 
Life  is  more  than  the  meat,  though  it  would  not  weigh 
so  much  in  the  butcher's  scales. 

There  are  remedies  at  hand.  It  is  true  a  certain 
amount  of  labor  must  be  performed,  in  order  that  socie- 
ty be  fed  and  clothed,  warmed  and  comforted,  relieved 
when  sick,  and  buried  when  dead.  If  this  is  wisely 
distributed  ;  if  each  performs  his  just  proportion  ;  the 
burden  is  slight,  and  crushes  no  one.  Here,  as  else- 
where, the  closer  we  keep  to  nature,  the  safer  we  are. 
It  is  not  under  the  burdens  of  Nature  that  society 
gi'oans  ;  but  the  work  of  Caprice,  of  Ostentation,  of 
contemptible  Vanity,  of  Lu.xury,  which  is  never  satis- 
fied—  these  oppress  the  world.  If  these  latter  are 
given  up,  and  each  performs  what  is  due  from  him,  and 
strives  to  diminish  the  general  burden  and  not  add  to 
it,  then  no  man  is  oppressed ;  there  is  time  enough  for 
each  man  to  cultivate  what  is  noblest  in  him,  and  be 
all  that  his  nature  allows.  It  is  doubtless  right  that 
one  man  should  use  the  service  of  another ;  but  only 
when  both  parties  are  benefited  by  the  relation.  The 
Smith  may  use  the  service  of  the  Collier,  the  Grocer, 
and  the  Grazier,  for  he  does  them  a  service  in  return 

12 


134  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

He  who  heals  the  body  deserves  a  compensation  at  the 
hands  of  whomsoever  he  serves.  If  the  Painter,  the 
Preacher,  the  Statesman,  is  doing  a  great  work  for  man- 
kind, he  has  a  right  to  their  service  in  retnrn.  His  fel- 
low man  may  do  for  him  what  otherwise  he  ought  to 
do  for  himself.  Thus  is  he  repaid,  and  is  at  liberty  to 
devote  the  undivided  energy  of  his  genius  to  the  work. 
But  on  what  ground  an  idle  man,  who  does  nothing  for 
society,  or  an  active  man,  whose  work  is  wholly  selfish, 
can  use  the  services  of  otljers,  and  call  them  to  feed  and 
comfort  him,  who  repays  no  equivalent  in  kind,  it  yet 
remains  for  Reason  to  discover.  The  only  equivalent 
for  service  is  a  service  in  return.  If  Hercules  is  stronger, 
Solon  wiser,  and  Job  richer  than  the  rest  of  men,  it  is 
not  that  they  may  demand  more  of  their  fellows,  but 
may  do  more  for  them.  "  We  that  are  strong  ought  to 
bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,"  says  a  good  man.  In 
respect,  however,  to  the  matter  of  personal  service,  this 
seems  to  be  the  rule  ;  that  no  one,  whatever  be  his  sta- 
tion, wants,  attainments,  or  riches,  has  any  right  to  re- 
ceive from  another  any  service  which  degrades  the  ser- 
vant in  his  own  eyes,  or  the  eyes  of  the  public,  or  in  the 
eyes  of  him  who  receives  the  service.  It  is  surely  un- 
manly to  receive  a  favor  which  you  would  not  give. 
If  it  debases  David  to  do  a  menial  service  for  Ahud, 
then  it  debases  Ahud  just  as  much  to  do  the  same 
to  David.  The  difference  between  King  and  Slave 
vanishes  when  both  are  examined  from  the  height  of 
their  common  humanity,  just  as  the  difierence  between 
the  west  and  north-west  side  of  a  hair  on  the  surface 
of  the  Earth  is  inconsiderable  to  an  eye  that  looks  down 
from  the  Sun,  and  takes  in  the  whole  system,  though  it 
might  appear  stupendous  to  the  motes  that  swim  un- 
counted in  a  drop  of  dew.     But  no  work,  useful  or  orna- 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOE.  135 

mental  to  human  life,  needs  be  debasing.  It  is  the  last- 
ing disgrace  of  society,  that  the  most  useful  employ- 
ments are  called  "  low."  There  is  implied  in  this  very 
term,  the  tacit  confession,  on  the  part  of  the  employer, 
that  he  has  wronged  and  subjugated  the  person  who 
serves  him ;  for  when  these  same  actions  are  performed 
by  the  mother  for  her  child,  or  the  son  for  his  father, 
and  are  done  for  love  and  not  money,  they  are  counted 
not  low,  but  rather  ennobling. 

The  law  of  nature  is,  that  work  and  the  enjoyment 
of  that  work  go  together.  Thus  God  has  given  each 
animal  the  power  of  self-help,  and  all  necessary  organs. 
The  same  Robin  builds  the  nest  and  lives  in  it.  Each 
Lion  has  claws  and  teeth,  and  kills  his  own  meat. 
Every  Beaver  has  prudence  and  plastic  skill,  and  so 
builds  for  himself.  In  those  classes  of  animals  where 
there  is  a  division  of  labor,  one  brings  the  wax,  an- 
other builds  the  comb,  and  a  third  collects  the  honey, 
but  each  one  is  at  work.  The  drones  are  expelled  when 
they  work  no  more.  Even  the  Ruler  of  the  colony  is 
the  most  active  member  of  the  State,  and  really  the 
mother  of  the  whole  people.  She  is  only  '-  happy  as  a 
king,"  because  she  does  the  most  work.  Hence  she 
has  a  divine  right  to  her  eminent  station.  She  never 
eats  the  bread  of  sin.  She  is  Queen  of  the  Workers. 
Here  each  labors  for  the  good  of  all,  and  not  solely  for 
his  own  benefit.  Still  less  is  any  one  an  injury  to  the 
others.  In  nature  those  animals  that  cannot  work,  are 
provided  for  by  Love.  Thus  the  young  Lion  is  fed  by 
the  Parent,  and  the  old  Stork  by  its  children.  Were  a 
full-grown  Lion  so  foolish  that  he  would  not  hunt,  the 
result  is  plain  he  must  starve.  Now  this  is  a  foreshad- 
owing of  man's  estate.  God  has  given  ten  fingers  for 
every  two  lips.     Each  is  to  use  the  ability  he  has  for 


136  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOK. 

himself  and  for  others.  Who,  that  is  able,  will  not  re- 
turn to  society,  with  his  head  or  his  hand,  an  equivalent 
for  what  it  received  ?  Only  the  Sluggard  and  the  Rob- 
ber. These  two,  the  Drones  and  Pirates  of  Society, 
represent  a  large  class.  It  is  the  plain  duty  of  each,  so 
far  as  he  is  able,  to  render  an  equivalent  for  what  he 
receives,  and  thus  to  work  for  the  good  of  ail ;  but  each 
in  his  own  way  ;  Dorcas  the  seamstress  at  her  craft,  and 
Moses  and  Paul  at  theirs.  If  one  cannot  work  through 
weakness,  or  infancy,  or  age,  or  sickness,  —  Love  works 
for  him,  and  he  too  is  fed.  If  one  will  not  work,  though 
he  can  — the  law  of  nature  should  have  its  effect.  He 
ought  to  starve.  If  one  insist  simply  upon  getting  into 
his  hands  the  earnings  of  others,  and  adding  nothing  to 
the  common  stock,  —  he  is  a  robber,  and  should  prop- 
erly meet  with  the  contempt  and  the  stout  resistance  of 
society.  There  is  in  the  whole  world  but  a  certain 
amount  of  value,  out  of  which  each  one  is  to  have  a 
subsistence  while  here ;  for  we  are  all  but  life-tenants 
of  the  Earth,  which  we  hold  in  common.  We  brought 
nothing  into  it ;  we  carry  nothing  out  of  it.  No  man, 
therefore,  has  a  natural  right  to  any  more  than  he  earns 
or  can  use.  He  who  adds  any  thing  to  the  common 
stock  and  inheritance  of  the  next  age,  though  it  be  but 
a  sheaf  of  wheat,  or  cocoon  of  silk,  he  has  produced,  a 
na])kin,  or  a  brown  loaf  he  has  made,  is  a  benefactor  to 
his  race,  so  far  as  that  goes.  But  he  who  gets  into 
his  hands,  by  force,  cunning,  or  deceit,  more  than  he 
earns,  does  thereby  force  his  fellow-mortal  to  accept  less 
.than  his  true  share.  So  far  as  that  goes,  he  is  a  curse 
to  mankind. 

There  arc  three   ways  of  getting  wealth.     First,  by 
seizing  with  violence  what  is  already  in  existence,  and 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  137 

appropriating  it  to  yourself.  This  is  the  method  of  the 
old  Romans  ;  of  Robbers  and  Pirates,  from  Sciron  to 
Captain  Kidd.  Second,  by  getting  posse*»sion  of  goods 
in  the  way  of  traffic,  or  by  some  similar  process.  Here 
the  agent  is  Cunning,  and  not  Force;  the  instrument 
is  a  gold  coin,  and  not  an  iron  sword,  as  in  the  for- 
mer case.  This  method  is  called  Trade,  as  the  other 
is  named  Robbery.  But  in  both  cases  wealth  is  ac- 
quired by  one  party  and  lost  by  the  other.  In  the  first 
case  there  is  a  loss  of  positive  value  ;  in  the  latter  there 
is  no  increase.  The  world  gains  nothing  new  by  either. 
The  third  method  is  the  application  of  labor  and  skill 
to  the  earth,  or  the  productions  of  nature.  Here  is  a 
positive  increase  of  value.  We  have  a  dozen  potatoes 
for  the  one  that  was  planted,  or  an  elegant  dress  in- 
stead of  an  handful  of  wool  and  flax.  Such  as  try  the 
two  former  ways  consume  much,  but  produce  nothing. 
Of  these  the  Roman  says,  "  fruges  consumere  nati,"  — 
they  are  horn  to  cat  iip  the  corn.  Yet  in  all  ages  they 
have  been  set  in  high  places.  The  world  dishonors 
its  workmen  ;  stones  its  prophets  ;  crucifies  its  Saviour, 
but  bows  down  its  neck  before  wealth,  however  won, 
and  shouts  till  the  welkin  rings  again,  Long  live  Vio- 
lence AND  Fraud. 

The  world  has  always  been  partial  to  its  oppressors. 
Many  men  fancy  themselves  an  ornament  to  the  world, 
whose  presence  in  it  is  a  disgrace  and  a  burden  to  the 
ground  they  stand  on.  The  man  who  does  nothing  for 
the  race,  but  sits  at  ease,  and  fares  daintily,  because 
wealth  has  fallen  into  his  hands,  is  a  burden  to  the 
world.  He  may  be  a  polished  gentleman,  a  scholar,  the 
master  of  elegant  accomplishments,  but  so  long  as  he 
takes  no  pains  to  work  for  man,  with  his  head  or  his 
hands,  what  claim  has  he  to  respect,  or  even  a  subsist- 

12* 


138  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

ence  ?  The  rough-handed  woman,  who,  with  a  salt- 
fish  and  a  basket  of  vegetables,  provides  substantial 
food  for  a  dozen  working  men,  and  washes  their  apparel, 
and  makes  them  comfortable  and  happy,  is  a  bless- 
ing to  the  land,  though  she  have  no  education,  while 
this  fop  with  his  culture  and  wealth  is  a  curse.  She 
does  her  duty  so  far  as  she  sees  it,  and  so  deserves  the 
thanks  of  man.  But  every  oyster  or  berry  that  fop  has 
eaten,  has  performed  its  duty  better  than  he.  "  It  was 
made  to  support  nature,  and  it  has  done  so,"  while  he 
is  but  a  consumer  of  food  and  clothing.  That  public 
opinion  tolerates  such  men  is  no  small  marvel. 

The  productive  classes  of  the  w^orld  are  those  who 
bless  it  by  their  work  or  their  thought.  He,  who  in; 
vents  a  machine,  does  no  less  a  service  than  he,  who 
toils  all  day  with  his  hands.  Thus  the  inventors  of  the 
plough,  the  loom,  and  the  ship  were  deservedly  placed 
among  those  whom  society  was  to  honor.  But  they 
also,  who  teach  men  moral  and  religious  truth  ;  who 
give  them  dominion  over  the  world ;  instruct  them  to 
think,  to  live  together  in  peace,  to  love  one  another,  and 
pass  good  lives  enlightened  by  Wisdom,  charmed  by 
(Joodness,  and  enchanted  by  Religion  ;  they  who  build 
up  a  loftier  population,  making  man  more  manly,  are 
the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  world.  They  speak  to 
the  deepest  wants  of  the  soul,  and  give  men  the  water 
of  life  and  the  true  bread  froni  Heaven.  They  are 
loaded  with  contumely  in  their  life,  and  come  to  a  vio- 
lent end.  But  their  inlluence  passes  like  morning  from 
land  to  land,  and  village  and  city  grow  glad  in  their 
light.  That  is  a  poor  economy,  common  as  it  is,  which 
overlooks  these  men.  It  is  a  very  vulgar  mind,  that 
would  rather  Paul  had  continued  a  tent-maker,  and 
Jesus  a  carpenter. 


THOUGHTS   ON   LABOR.  139 

Now  the  remedy  for  the  hard  service  that  is  laid  ujdou 
the  human  race  consists  partly  in  lessening  the  number 
of  unproductive  classes,  and  increasing  the  workers  and 
thinkers,  as  well  as  in  giving  up  the  work  of  Ostenta- 
tion and  Folly  and  Sin.  It  has  been  asserted  on  high 
authority,  that  if  all  men  and  women  capable  of  work 
would  toil  diligently  but  two  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 
four,  the  work  of  the  world  would  be  done,  and  all 
would  be  as  comfortably  fed  and  clothed,  as  well  edu- 
cated and  housed,  and  provided  for  in  general,  as  they 
now  are,  even  admitting  they  all  went  to  sleep  the  other 
twenty-two  hours  of  the  day  and  night.  If  this  were 
done,  we  should  hear  nothing  of  the  sickness  of  seden- 
tary and  rich  men.  Exercise  for  the  sake  of  health 
would  be  heard  of  no  more.  One  class  would  not  be 
crushed  by  hard  work  ;  nor  another  oppressed  by  indo- 
lence, and  condemned,  in  order  to  resist  the  just  ven- 
geance nature  takes  on  them,  to  consume  nauseous 
drugs,  and  resort  to  artificial  and  hateful  methods  to 
preserve  a  life  that  is  not  worth  the  keeping,  because  it 
is  useless  and  ignominious.  Now  men  may  work  at 
the  least  three  or  four  times  this  necessary  amount  each 
day,  and  yet  find  their  labor  a  pastime,  a  dignity,  and 
a  blessing,  and  find  likewise  abundant  opportunity  for 
study,  for  social  intercourse,  and  recreation.  Then  if 
a  man's  calling  were  to  think  and  write,  he  would 
not  injure  the  world  by  even  excessive  devotion  to  his 
favorite  pursuit,  for  the  general  burden  would  still  be 
slight. 

Another  remedy  is  this,  the  mind  does  the  body's 
work.  The  head  saves  the  hands.  It  invents  machines, 
which,  doing  the  work  of  many  hands,  will  at  last  set 
free  a  large  portion  of  human  time  from  slavery  to  the 
elements.     The  brute  forces  of  nature  lie  waiting  man's 


140  THOUGHTS    OX    LABOR. 

command,  and  ready  to  serve  him.  At  the  voice  of 
Genius,  the  river  consents  to  turn  his  wheel,  and  weave 
and  spin  for  the  antipodes.  The  Mine  sends  him  iron 
Vassals,  to  toil  in  cold  and  heat.  Fire  and  Water  em- 
brace at  his  bidding,  and  a  new  servant  is  born,  which 
will  fetch  and  carry  at  his  command  ;  will  face  down 
all  the  storms  of  the  Atlantic  ;  will  forge  anchors,  and 
spin  gossamer  threads,  and  run  of  errands  up  and  down 
the  continent  with  men  and  women  on  his  back.  This 
last  child  of  Science,  though  yet  a  stripling  and  in  lead- 
ing strings,  is  already  a  stout  giant.  The  Fable  of  Or- 
pheus is  a  true  story  in  our  times.  There  are  four  stages 
of  progress  in  regard  to  labor,  which  are  observable  in 
the  history  of  man.  First,  he  does  his  own  work  by 
his  hands.  Adam  tills  the  ground  in  the  sweat  of  his 
own  face,  and  Noah  builds  an  ark  in  many  years  of 
toil.  Next  he  forces  his  fellow-mortal  to  work  for  him, 
and  Canaan  becomes  a  servant  to  his  brother,  and  Job 
is  made  rich  by  the  sweat  of  his  great  household  of 
slaves.  Then  he  seizes  on  the  beasts,  and  the  Ball  and 
the  Horse  drag  the  plough  of  Castor  and  Pollux.  At 
last  he  sets  free  his  brother ;  works  with  his  own  hands  ; 
commands  the  beasts,  and  makes  the  brute  force  of  the 
elements  also  toil  for  him.  Then  he  has  dominion  over 
the  earth,  and  enjoys  his  birthright. 

Man,  however,  is  still  in  bondage  to  the  elements ; 
and  since  the  beastly  maxim  is  even  now  prevalent,  that 
the  Strong  should  take  care  of  themselves,  and  use  the 
weak  as  their  tools,  though  to  the  manifest  injury  of  the 
weak,  the  use  of  machinery  has  hitherto  been  but  a 
trifling  boon  in  com})arison  with  what  it  may  be.  In 
the  village  of  Humdrum,  its  thousand  able-bodied  men 
and  women,  without  machinery,  and  having  no  inter- 
course with  the  rest  of  the  world,  must  work  fourteen 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  141 

hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  that  they  may  all  be 
housed,  fed,  and  clothed,  warmed,  instructed,  and  made 
happy.  Some  ingenious  hands  invent  water-mills, 
which  saw,  plane,  thrash,  grind,  spin,-^weave,  and  do 
many  other  things,  so  that  these  thousand  people  need 
work  but  five  hours  in  the  day  to  obtain  the  result  of 
fourteen  by  the  old  process.  Here  then  a  vast  amount 
of  time  —  nine  hours  in  the  day  —  is  set  free  from  toil. 
It  may  be  spent  in  study,  social  improvement,  the  pur- 
suit of  a  favorite  art,  and  leave  room  for  amusement 
also.  But  the  longest  heads  at  Humdrum  have  not 
Christian  but  only  selfish  hearts  beating  in  their  bosoms, 
and  sending  life  into  the  brain.  So  these  calculators 
think  the  men  of  Humdrum  shall  work  fourteen  hours 
a  day  as  before.  "  It  would  be  dangerous,"  say  they, 
"to  set  free  so  much  time.  The  deluded  creatures 
would  soon  learn  to  lie  and  steal,  and  would  speedily 
end  by  eating  one  another  up.  It  would  not  be  Chris- 
tian to  leave  them  to  this  fate.  Leisure  is  very  good 
for  us,  but  would  be  ruinous  to  them."  So  the  wise 
men  of  Humdrum  persuade  their  neighbors  to  work  the 
old  fourteen  hours.  More  is  produced  than  is  consumed. 
So  they  send  off  the  superfluities  of  the  village,  and  in 
return  bring  back  tea  and  porcelain,  rich  wines,  and 
showy  gew-gaws,  and  contemptible  fashions  that  change 
every  month.  The  strong-headed  men  grow  rich  ;  live 
in  palaces;  their  daughters  do  not  work,  nor  their  sons 
dirty  their  hands.  They  fare  sumptuously  every  day ; 
are  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen.  Meanwhile  the 
common  people  of  Humdrum  work  as  long  as  before 
the  machines  were  invented,  and  a  little  harder.  They 
also  are  blest  by  the  "improvement."  The  young  wo- 
men have  red  ribbons  on  their  bonnets,  French  gloves 
on  their  hands,  and  shawls  of  India  on  their  shoulders, 


142  THOUGHTS   ON   LABOR. 

and  "tinkling  ornaments"  in  their  ears.  The  young 
man  of  Humdrum  is  better  off"  than  his  father  who 
fought  through  the  Revolution,  for  he  wears  a  beaver 
hat,  and  a  coat  of  English  cloth,  and  has  a  Birming- 
ham whittle,  and  a  watch  in  his  pocket.  "When  he 
marries  he  will  buy  red  curtains  to  his  windows,  and  a 
showy  mirror  to  hang  on  his  wall.  For  these  valuable 
considerations  he  parts  with  the  nine  hours  a  day,  which 
machinery  has  saved,  but  has  no  more  bread  than  be- 
fore. For  these  blessings  he  will  make  his  body  a  slave, 
and  leave  his  mind  all  uncultivated.  He  is  content  to 
grow  up  a  body — nothing  but  a  body.  So  that  if  you 
look  therein  for  his  Understanding,  Imagination,  Rea- 
son, you  will  find  them  like  three  grains  of  wheat  in 
three  bushels  of  chaff".  You  shall  seek  them  all  day 
before  you  find  them,  and  at  last  they  are  not  worth 
your  search.  At  Humdrum,  Nature  begins  to  revolt  at 
the  factitious  inequality  of  condition,  and  thinks  it 
scarce  right  for  bread  to  come  fastest  into  hands  that 
add  nothing  to  the  general  stock.  So  many  grow  rest- 
less and  a  few  pilfer.  In  a  ruder  state  crimes  are  few ; 
—  the  result  of  violent  passions.  At  Humdrum  they 
are  numerous;  —  the  result  of  want,  indolence,  or  neg- 
lected education ;  they  are  in  great  measure  crimes 
against  property.  To  remedy  this  new  and  unnatural 
evil,  there  rises  a  .Court  House  and  a  .Tail,  which  must 
be  paid  for  in  work ;  then  Judges  and  Ijawyers  and 
Jailors  are  needed  likewise  in  this  artificial  state,  and 
add  to  the  common  burden.  The  old  Athenians  sent 
yearly  seven  beautiful  youths  and  virgins;  —  a  tribute 
to  the  Minotaur.  The  wise  men  of  Humdrum  shut  up 
in  Jail  a  larger  number;  —  a  sacrifice  to  the  spirit  of 
modern  cupidity  ;  unfortunate  wretches,  who  were  the 
victims  not  the  foes  of  society;  men  so  weak  in  head 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  143 

or  heart,  that  their  bad  character  was  formed  for  them, 
through  circumstances  far  more  than  it  was  formed  by 
them,  through  their  own    freewill.       Still  further    the 
men  who  violate  the  law  of  the  body,  uMng  the  Mouth 
much  and  the  Hand  little,  or  in  the  opposite  way,  soon 
nnd    Aature   taking  vengeance  for  the  offence.     Then 
unnatural  remedies  must  oppose  the  artificial  disease 
In  the   old   time,  every  sickly  dunce  was  cured  "  with 
Motherwort  and  Tansy,"  which  greu^  by  the  road  side; 
suited  all  complaints,  and   was  administered   by  each 
mother  in  the  village.     Now  Humdrum  has  its  «  medi- 
ca     faculty,"   with    their   conflicting   systems,   homceo- 
pathic  and  allopathic,  but  no  more  health  than  before. 
Ihus  the  burden  is  increased  to  little    purpose      The 
strong  men  of  Humdrum  have  grown  rich  and  become 
educa  ed.     If  one  of  the  laboring  men  is  stronger  than 
his  fellows,  he  also  will  become  rich,  and  educate  his 
children.     He  becomes  rich,  not  by  his  own  work,  but 
by  usmg  the  hands  of  others  whom  his  cunning  over- 
reaches.    Yet  he  is  not  more  avaricious  than  they      He 
has  perhaps  the  average  share  of  selfishness,  but  superior 
adroitness  to  gratify  that  selfishness.     So  he  gets  and 
saves,  and  takes  care  of  himself;  a  part  of  their  duty 
which  the  strong  have  always  known  how  to  perform,' 
though   the   more  difficult   part,  how  to  take  care  o^ 
others,  to  think  for  them,  and  help  them  to  think  for 
themselves,  they  have  yet  to  learn,  at  least  to  practise. 
Alas,  we  are  still  in  bondage  to  the  elements  and  so  " 
long  as   wo  of  the  "enlightened"  nations  of  the  earth 
England  and  America,  insist  on  weaving  the  garments' 
for  all  the  rest  of  the  world, -not  because  they  would 
clothe  the  naked,  but  that  their  strong  men  might  live 
m  fine  houses,  wear  gay  apparel,  dine  on  costly  food 
and  their  Mouths  be  served  by  other  men's  Hands^- we 


144  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

must  expect  that  seven  tenths  of  mankind  will  be  de- 
graded, and  will  hug  their  chains,  and  count  machinery 
an  evil.  Is  not  the  only  remedy  for  all  the  evils  at 
Humdrum  in  the  Christian  idea  of  wealth,  and  the 
Christian  idea  of  work  ? 

There  is  a  melancholy  background  to  the  success  and 
splendid  achievements  of  modern  society.  You  see  it 
in  rural  villages,  but  more  plainly  in  large  cities,  where 
the  amount  of  Poverty  and  Wealth  is  summed  up  as 
in  a  table  of  statistics,  and  stands  in  two  parallel 
columns.  The  wretchedness  of  a  destitute  mother  con- 
trasts sadly  with  a  warehouse,  whence  she  is  excluded 
by  a  single  pane  of  glass,  as  cold  as  popular  charity 
and  nearly  as  thin.  The  comfortless  hutch  of  the  poor, 
who  works,  though  with  shiftless  hands  and  foolish 
head,  is  a  dark  background  to  the  costly  stable  of  the 
rich  man,  who  does  nothing  for  the  world,  but  gather 
its  treasures,  and  whose  horses  are  better  fed,  housed, 
trained  up,  and  cared  for  than  his  brother.  It  is  a 
strange  contrast  to  the  church  of  God,  that,  with  thick 
granite  walls,  towers  up  to  Heaven  near  by.  One  can- 
not but  think,  in  view  of  the  suffering  there  is  in  the 
world,  that  most  of  it  is  the  fault  of  some  one ;  that 
God,  who  matle  men's  bodi,es,  is  no  bankrupt,  and  docs 
not  pay  off  a  penny  of  Satisfaction  for  a  pound  of 
Want,  but  has  made  enough  and  to  spare  for  all  his 
creatures,  if  they  will  use  it  wisely.  Who  does  not 
sometimes  remember  that  saying,  Inasmuch  as  you  have 
not  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these,  you  have  not  done 
it  unto  me? 

The  world  no  doubt  grows  better;  comfort  is  increased 
from  age  to  age.  What  is  a  luxury  in  one  generation, 
scarce  attainable  by  the  wealthy,  becomes  at  last  the 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOK.  145 

possession  of  most  men.     Solomon,  with  all  his  wealth, 
had  no  carpet  on  his  chamber  floor;    no  glass  in  his 
windows ;  no  shirt  to  his  back.     But  as  the  world  goes, 
the  increase  of  comforts  does  not  fall  ciiiefly  into  the 
hands  of  those  who  create  them  by  their  work.     The 
mechanic    cannot   use    the    costly  furniture   he   makes.. 
This,  however,  is  of  small  consequence ;  but  he  has  not 
always  the  more  valuable  consideration,  time  to  grow 
WISER  AND  BETTER  IN.     As  socicty  advances,  the  standard 
of  poverty  rises.     A  man  in  New  England   is   called 
poor  at  this  day,  who  would  have  been  rich  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago ;  but  as  it  rises,  the  number  that  falls 
beneath   that  standard  becomes  a  greater  part  of  the 
whole  population.     Of  course  the  comfort  of  a  few  is 
purchased  by  the  loss  of  the   many.     The  world  has 
grown  rich  and  refined,  but  chiefly  by  the  efforts  of  those 
who   themselves  continue  poor  and  ignorant.     So  the 
Ass,  while  he  carried  wood  and  spices  to  the  Roman 
bath,  contributed  to  the  happiness  of  the  State,  but  was 
himself  always  dirty  and  overworked.     It  is  easy  to  see 
these  evils,  and  weep  for  them.     It  is  common  also  to 
censure  some  one  class  of  men — the  Rich  or  the  Edu- 
cated, the  Manufacturers,  the  Merchants,  or  the  Poli- 
ticians, for  example  —  as  if  the  sin  rested  solely  with 
them,  while   it   belongs  to  society  at  large.     But   the 
world  yet  waits  for  some   one  to  heal  these  dreadful 
evils,  by  devising  some  new  remedy,  or  applying  the 
old.      Who  shall  apply  for  us   Christianity  to   social: 
life  ? 

But  God  orders  all  things  wisely.  Perhaps  it  is  best 
that  man  should  toil  on  some  centuries  more  before  the 
race  becomes  of  age,  and  capable  of  receiving  its  birth- 
right! Every  wrong  must  at  last  be  righted,  and  he 
who  has  borne  the  burden  of  society  in  this  ephemeral 

13 


146  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

life,  and  tasted  none  of  its  rewards,  and  he  also,  who 
has  eaten  its  loaves  and  fishes  and  yet  earned  nothing, 
will  no  doubt  find  an  equivalent  at  last  in  the  scales  of 
divine  Justice.  Doubtless  the  time  will  come  when 
labor  will  be  a  pleasant  pastime ;  when  the  sour  sweat 
and  tears  of  life  shall  be  wiped  away  from  many  faces; 
when  the  few  shall  not  be  advanced  at  the  expense  of 
the  many ;  when  ten  pairs  of  female  hands  shall  not  be 
deformed  to  nurse  a  single  pair  into  preternatural  deli- 
cacy, but  when  all  men  shall  eat  bread  in  the  sweat  of 
their  face,  and  yet  find  leisure  to  cultivate  what  is  best 
and  divinest  in  their  souls,  to  a  degree  we  do  not  dream 
of  as  yet ;  when  the  strong  man  who  wishes  to  be  a 
Mouth  and  not  a  Hand,  or  to  gain  the  treasures  of  so- 
ciety by  violence  or  cunning,  and  not  by  paying  their 
honest  price,  will  be  looked  upon  with  the  same  horror 
we  feel  for  pirates  and  robbers,  and  the  guardians  who 
steal  the  inheritance  of  their  wards  and  leave  them  to 
want  and  die.  No  doubt  it  is  a  good  thing  that  four  or 
five  men  out  of  the  thousand  should  find  time,  exemp- 
tion from  labor,  and  wealth  likewise  to  obtain  a  gener- 
ous education  of  their  Head  and  Heart  and  Soul,  but 
it  is  a  better  thing,  it  is  alone  consistent  with  God's  law, 
that  the  world  shall  be  managed,  so  that  each  man  shall 
have  a  chance  to  obtain  the  best  education  society  c^n 
give  him,  and  while  he  toils,  to  become  the  best  and 
greatest  his  nature  is  capable  of  being,  in  this  terrene 
sphere.  Things  never  will  come  to  their  proper  level  so 
long  as  Thought  with  the  Head,  and  Work  with  the 
Hands  are  considered  incompatible.  Never  till  all  men 
follow  the  calling  they  are  designed  for  by  nature,  and 
it  becomes  as  common  for  a  rich  man's  son  to  follow  a 
trade,  as  now  it  is  happily  for  a  poor  man's  to  be  rich. 
Labor  will  always  be  unattractive  and  disgraceful,  so 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR.  147 

long  as  wealth  unjustly  obtained  is  a  distinction,  and 
so  long  as  the  best  cultivation  of  a  man  is  thought  in- 
consistent with  the  life  of  the  farmer  and  the  tailor. 
As  things  now  are,  men  desert  a  laborioiws  occupation 
for  which  they  are  fitted,  and  have  a  natural  fondness, 
and  seek  bread  and  honor  in  the  "  learned  professions," 
for  which  they  have  neither  ability  nor  taste,  solely  be- 
cause they  seek  a  generous  education,  which  is  thought 
inconsistent  with  a  life  of  hard  work.  Thus  strong 
heads  desert  the  plough  and  the  anvil,  to  come  into  a 
profession  which  they  dislike,  and  then  to  find  their 
Duty  pointing  one  way  and  their  Desire  travelling 
another.  Thus  they  attempt  to  live  two  lives  at  the 
same  time,  and  fail  of  both,  as  he  who  would  walk 
eastward  and  westward  at  the  same  time  makes  no 
progress. 

Now  the  best  education  and  the  highest  culture,  in  a 
rational  state  of  society,  does  not  seem  inconsistent 
with  a  life  of  hard  work.  It  is  not  a  figure  of  speech, 
but  a  plain  fact,  that  a  man  is  educated  by  his  trade,  or 
daily  calling.  Indirectly,  Labor  ministers  to  the  wise 
man  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  instruction,  just 
as  it  gives  him  directly  his  daily  bread.  Under  its 
legitimate  influence,  the  frame  acquires  its  due  propor- 
tions and  proper  strength.  To  speak  more  particularly, 
the  work  of  a  farmer,  for  example,  is  a  school  of  mental 
discipline.  He  must  watch  the  elements  ;  must  under- 
stand the  nature  of  the  soil  he  tills,  the  character  and 
habits  of  the  plants  he  rears,  the  character  and  disposi- 
tion of  each  animal  that  serves  him  as  a  living  instru- 
ment. Each  day  makes  large  claims  on  him  for  knowl- 
edge, and  sound  judgment.  He  is  to  apply  good  sense 
to    the   soil.     Now  these  demands  tend  to    foster   the 


148  THOUGHTS    ON   LABOR. 

habit  of  observing  and  judging  justly ;  to  increase 
thought,  and  elevate  the  man.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  almost  all  trades.  The  sailor  must  watch  the  ele- 
ments, and  have  all  his  knowledge  and  faculties  at 
command,  for  his  life  often  depends  on  having,  "the 
right  thought  at  the  right  time."  Judgment  and  de- 
cision are  thus  called  forth.  The  education  men  derive 
from  their  trade  is  so  striking,  that  craftsmen  can  ex- 
press almost  any  truth,  be  it  never  so  deep  and  high,  in 
the  technical  terms  of  the  "  shop."  The  humblest  busi- 
ness may  thus  develop  the  noblest  power  of  thinking. 
So  a  trade  may  be  to  the  man,  in  some  measure,  what 
the  school  and  the  college  are  to  the  scholar.  The  wise 
man  learns  more  from  his  corn  and  cattle,  than  the 
stupid  pedant  from  all  the  folios  of  the  Vatican.  The 
habit  of  thinking,  thus  acquired,  is  of  more  value  than 
the  greatest  number  of  thoughts  learned  by  rote,  and 
labelled  for  use. 

But  an  objection  may  readily  be  brought  to  this  view, 
and  it  may  be  asked,  why  then  are  not  the  farmers  as  a 
class  so  well  instructed  as  the  class  of  lawyers  ?  Cer- 
tainly there  may  be  found  farmers  who  are  most  highly 
educated.  Men  of  but  little  acquaintance  with  l)ooks, 
yet  men  of  thought,  observation,  and  sound  judgment. 
Scholars  are  ashamed  before  them  when  they  meet,  and 
blush  at  the  homely  wisdom,  the  acute  analysis,  the 
depth  of  insight  and  breadth  of  view  displayed  by 
laborers  in  blue  frocks.  But  these  cases  are  exceptions. 
These  men  were  geniuses  of  no  mean  order,  and  would 
be  great  under  any  circumstances.  It  must  be  admitted, 
that,  as  a  general  rule,  the  man  who  works  is  not  so 
well  educated  as  the  lawyer.  Bat  the  difference  be- 
tween them  rises  not  so  much  from  any  diflel-ence  in 
the   two  callings,  as  from  this  circumstance,  that   the 


THOUGHTS    OX   LABOR.  149 

lawyer  enters  his  profession  with  a  large  fund  of  knowl- 
edge and  the  habits  of  intellectual  discipline,  which  the 
farmer  has  not.  He  therefore  has  the  advantage  so 
long  as  he  lives.  If  two  young  men  ofg^he  same  age 
and  equal  capacity  were  to  receive  the  same  education, 
till  they  were  twenty  years  old,  both  taking  proper 
physical  exercise  at  the  same  time,  and  one  of  them 
should  then  spend  three  years  in  learning  the  science  of 
the  Law,  the  other  in  the  science  of  the  Farm,  and  then 
both  should  enter  the  full  practice  of  their  two  callings, 
each  having  access  to  books  if  he  wished  for  them,  and 
educated  men  and  women,  can  any  one  doubt  that  the 
farmer,  at  the  age  of  forty,  would  be  the  better  educated 
man  of  the  two  ?  The  trade  teaches  as  much  as  the 
profession,  and  it  is  as  well  known  that  almost  every 
farmer  has  as  much  time  for  general  reading  as  the 
lawyer,  and  better  opportunity  for  thought,  since  he  can 
think  of  what  he  will  when  at  his  work,  while  the 
lawyer's  work  demands  his  thought  all  the  time  he 
is  in  it.  The  farmer  would  probably  have  the  more 
thoughts;  the  lawyer  the  more  elegant  words.  If  there 
is  any  employment  whix^h  degrades  the  man  who  is 
always  engaged  in  it,  cannot  many  bear  the  burden  — 
each  a  short  time  —  and  so  no  one  be  crushed  to  the 
ground  ? 

Morality,  likewise,  is  taught  by  a  trade.  The  man 
must  have  dealings  with  his  fellows.  The  afflicted  call 
for  his  sympathy ;  the  oppressed  for  his  aid.  Vice 
solicits  his  rebuke,  and  virtue  claims  his  commendation. 
If  he  buys  and  sells,  he  is  presented  with  opportunities 
to  defraud.  He  may  conceal  a  fault  in  his  work,  and 
thus  deceive  his  employer.  So  an  appeal  is  continually 
made  to  his  sense  of  Right.     If  faithful,  he  learns  jus- 

13* 


150  THOUGHTS   ON  LABOR. 

tice.  It  is  only  by  this  exposure  to  temptation,  that 
virtue  can  be  acquired.  It  is  in  the  water  that  men 
learn  to  swim.  Still  more,  a  man  does  not  toil  for  him- 
self alone,  but  for  those  dearest  to  his  heart;  this  for 
his  father;  that  for  his  child;  and  there  are  those  who 
out  of  the  small  pittance  of  their  daily  earnings  con- 
tribute to  support  the  needy,  print  Bibles  for  the  igno- 
rant, and  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  poor.  Here  the 
meanest  work  becomes  Heroism.  The  man  who  toils 
for  a  principle  ennobles  himself  by  the  act. 

Still  further,  Labor  has  a  religious  use.  It  has  been 
well  said,  "  an  undevout  astronomer  is  mad."  But  an 
undevout  farmer,  sailor,  or  mechanic,  is  equally  mad, 
for  the  duties  of  each  afford  a  school  for  his  devotion. 
In  respect  to  this  influence,  the  farmer  seems  to  stand 
on  the  very  top  of  the  world.  The  laws  of  nature  are 
at  work  for  him.  For  him  the  sun  shines  and  the  rain 
falls.  The  earth  grows  warm  to  receive  his  seed.  The 
dew  moistens  it;  the  blade  springs  up  and  grows,  he 
knows  not  how,  while  all  the  stars  come  forth  to  keep 
watch  over  his  rising  corn.  There  is  no  second  cause 
between  him  and  the  soul  of  all.  Every  thing  ho  looks 
on,  from  the  earliest  flowers  of  spring  to  the  austere 
grandeurs  of  a  winter  sky  at  night,  is  the  work  of  God's 
hand.  The  great  process  of  growth  and  decay,  change 
and  reproduction,  are  perpetually  before  him.  Day  and 
Night,  Serenity  and  Storm  visit  and  bless  him  as  they 
move.  Nature's  great  works  are  done  for  no  one  in 
special;  yet  each  man  receives  as  much  of  the  needed 
rain,  and  the  needed  heat,  as  if  all  rain  and  all  heat 
were  designed  for  his  use  alone.  He  labors,  but  it  is 
not  only  the  fruit  of  his  labor  that  he  eats.  No ;  God's 
exhaustless  Providence  works  for  him ;  works  with  him. 


THOUGHTS    ON   LABOK.  ■  151 

His  laws  warm  and  water  the  fields,  replenishing  the 
earth.  Thus  the  Husbandman,  whose  eye  is  open, 
walks  always  in  the  temple  of  God.  He  sees  the 
divine  goodness  and  wisdom  in  the  growih  of  a  flower 
or  a  tree ;  in  the  nice  adjustment  of  an  insect's  supplies 
to  its  demands ;  in  the  perfect  contentment  found  every- 
where in  nature  —  for  you  shall  search  all  day  for  a 
melancholy  fly,  yet  never  find  one.  The  influence  of  all 
these  things  on  an  active  and  instructed  mind  is  en- 
nobling. The  man  seeks  daily  bread  for  the  body,  and 
gets  the  bread  of  life  for  the  soul.  Like  his  corn  and 
his  trees,  his  heart  and  mind  are  cultivated  by  his  toil; 
for  as  Saul  seeking  his  father's  stray  cattle  found  a 
kingdom,  as  stripling  David  was  anointed  king  while 
keeping  a  few  sheep  in  the  wilderness,  and  when  sent 
to  carry  bread  to  his  brothers  in  the  camp  slew  a  giant, 
and  became  monarch ;  so  each  man  who  with  true 
motives,  an  instructed  mind,  and  soul  of  tranquil  devo- 
tion, goes  to  his  daily  work,  however  humble,  may  slay 
the  giant  Difficulty,  and  be  anointed  with  gladness  and 
possess  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  In  the  lowliest  call- 
ing he  may  win  the  loftiest  result,  as  you  may  see  the 
stars  from  the  deepest  valley  as  well  as  from  the  top  of 
Chimborazo.  But  to  realize  this  end  the  man  must 
have  some  culture,  and  a  large  capital  of  information 
at  the  outset ;  and  then  it  is  at  a  man's  own  option, 
whether  his  work  shall  be  to  him  a  blessing  or  a 
curse. 


VI. 


A  DISCOURSE  OF  THE  TRANSIENT  AND  PERMANENT 
IN  CHRISTIANITY  * 


Luke  xxi.  33.     "Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away  :  but  my  word  shall  not  pass  away."' 

In  this  sentence  we  have  a  very  clear  indication  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  believed  the  religion  he  taught  would 
be  eternal,  that  the  substance  of  it  would  last  forever. 
Yet  there  are  some,  who  are  aifrighted  by  the  faintest 
rustle  which  a  heretic  makes  among  the  dry  leaves  of 
theology ;  they  tremble  lest  Christianity  itself  should 
perish  without  hope.  Ever  and  anon  the  cry  is  raised, 
"  The  Philistines  be  upon  us,  and  Christianity  is  in  dan- 
ger." The  least  doubt  respecting  the  popular  theology, 
or  the  existing  machinery  of  the  church;  the  least  sign 
of  distrust  in  the  Religion  of  the  Pulpit,  or  the  Religion 
of  the  Street,  is  by  some  good  men  supposed  to  be  at 
enmity  with  faith  in  Ciirist,  and  capable  of  shaking 
Christianity  itself.  On  the  other  hand,  a  few  bad  men 
and  a  few  pious  men,  it  is  said,  on  both  sides  of  the 
water,  tell   us   the   day   of   Christianity  is  past.     The 

*  Preached  at  the  Ordination  of  Mr.  Charles  C.  Shackford,  in  the 
Ilawes  Place  Church  in  Boston,  May  19,  1841. 


TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT   IN   CHRISTIANITY.      153 

latter  —  it  is  alleged  —  would  persuade  us  that,  here- 
after, Piety  must  take  a  new  form ;  the  teachings  of 
Jesus  are  to  be  passed  by  ;  that  Religion  is  to  wing  her 
way  sublime,  above  the  flight  of  Christiaiiity^  far  away, 
toward  heaven,  as  the  fledged  eaglet  leaves  forever  the 
nest  which  sheltered  his  callow  youth.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, devote  a  few  moments  to  this  subject,  and  consider 
what  is  Transient  in  Christianity,  and  what  is  Per- 
manent therein.  The  topic  seems  not  inappropriate  to 
the  times  in  which  we  live,  or  the  occasion  that  calls  us 
together. 

Christ  says,  his  Word  shall  never  pass  away.  Yet 
at  first  sight  nothing  seems  more  fleeting  than  a  word. 
It  is  an  evanescent  impulse  of  the  most  fickle  element. 
It  leaves  no  track  where  it  went  through  the  air.  Yet 
to  this,  and  this  only,  did  Jesus  intrust  the  truth  where- 
with he  came  laden,  to  the  earth  ;  truth  for  the  salvation 
of  the  world.  He  took  no  pains  to  perpetuate  his 
thoughts ;  they  were  poured  forth  where  occasion  found 
him  an  audience,  —  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  or  a  well; 
in  a  cottage,  or  the  temple  ;  in  a  fisher's  boat,  or  the 
synagogue  of  the  Jews.  He  founds  no  institution  as  a 
monument  of  his  words.  He  appoints  no  order  of  men 
to  preserve  his  bright  and  glad  revelations.  He  only 
bids  his  friends  give  freely  the  truth  they  had  freely  re- 
ceived. He  did  not  even  write  his  words  in  a  book. 
With  a  noble  confidence,  the  result  of  his  abiding  faith, 
he  scattered  them  broadcast  on  the  world,  leaving  the 
seed  to  its  own  vitality.  He  knew,  that  what  is  of  God 
cannot  fail,  for  God  keeps  his  own.  He  sowed  his  seed 
in  the  heart,  and  left  it  there,  to  be  watered  and  warmed 
by  the  dew  and  the  sun  which  heaven  sends.  He  felt 
his  words  were  for  eternity.      So  he  trusted  them  to  the 


154  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

uncertain  air ;  and  for  eighteen  hundred  years  that  faith- 
ful element  has  held  them  good,  —  distinct  as  when  first 
warm  from  his  lips.  Now  they  arc  translated  into  every 
human  speech,  and  murmured  in  all  earth's  thousand 
tongues,  from  the  pine  forests  of  the  North  to  the  palm 
groves  of  eastern  Ind.  They  mingle,  as  it  were,  with 
the  roar  of  a  populous  city,  and  join  the  chime  of  the 
desert  sea.  Of  a  Sabbath  morn  they  are  repeated  from 
church  to  church,  from  isle  to  isle,  and  land  to  land,  till 
their  music  goes  round  the  world.  These  words  have 
become  the  breath  of  the  good,  the  hope  of  the  wise,  the 
joy  of  the  pious,  and  that  for  many  millions  of  hearts. 
They  are  the  prayers  of  our  churches ;  our  better  devo- 
tion by  fireside  and  fieldside ;  the  enchantment  of  our 
hearts.  It  is  these  words,  that  still  work  wonders,  to 
which  the  first  recorded  miracles  were  nothing  in  gran- 
deur and  utility.  It  is  these,  which  build  our  temples 
and  beautify  our  homes.  They  raise  our  thoughts  of 
sublimity ;  they  purify  our  ideal  of  purity :  they  hallow 
our  prayer  for  truth  and  love.  They  make  beauteous 
and  divine  the  life  which  plain  men  lead.  They  give 
wings  to  our  aspirations.  What  charmers  they  are! 
Sorrow  is  lulled  at  their  bidding.  They  take  the  sting 
out  of  disease,  and  rob  adversity  of  his  power  to  disap- 
point. They  give  health  and  wings  to  the  pious  soul, 
broken-hearted  and  shipwrecked  in  his  voyage  through 
life,  and  encourage  him  to  tempt  the  perilous  way  once 
more.  They  make  all  things  ours:  Christ  our  brother ; 
Time  our  servant ;  Death  our  ally  and  the  witness  of 
our  triumph.  They  reveal  to  us  the  presence  of  God, 
which  else  we  might  not  have  seen  so  clearly,  in  the 
first  wind-flower  of  spring;  in  the  falling  of  a  sparrow; 
in  the  distress  of  a  nation ;  in  the  sorrow  or  the  rapture 
of  the  world.     Silence  the  voice  of  Christianity,  and  the 


IN   CimiSTIANITY.  155 

world  is  wellnigh  dumb,  for  gone  is  that  sweet  music 
which  kept  in  awe  the  rulers  of  the  people,  which  cheers 
the  poor  widow  in  her  lonely  toil,  and  comes  like  light 
through  the  windows  of  morning,  to  men^vho  sit  stoop- 
ing and  feeble,  with  failing  eyes  and  a  hungering  heart. 
It  is  gone  —  all  gone!  only  the  cold,  bleak  world  left 
before  them. 

Such  is  the  life  of  these  Words;  such  the  empire  they 
have  won  for  themselves  over  men's  minds  since  they 
were  spoken  first.  In  the  mean  time,  the  words  of  great 
men  and  mighty,  whose  name  shook  whole  continents, 
though  graven  in  metal  and  stone,  though  stamped  in 
institutions  and  defended  by  whole  tribes  of  priests  and 
troops  of  followers  —  their  words  have  gone  to  the 
ground,  and  the  world  gives  back  no  echo  of  their  voice. 
Meanwhile  the  great  works  also  of  old  times,  castle  and 
tower  and  town,  their  cities  and  their  empires,  have  per- 
ished, and  left  scarce  a  mark  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth 
to  show  they  once  have  been.  The  philosophy  of  the 
wise,  the  art  of  the  accomplished,  the  song  of  the  poet, 
the  ritual  of  the  priest,  though  honored  as  divine  in  their 
day,  have  gone  down,  a  prey  to  oblivion.  Silence  has 
closed  over  them  ;  only  their  spectres  now  haunt  the 
earth.  A  deluge  of  blood  has  swept  over  the  nations; 
a  night  of  darkness,  more  deep  than  the  fabled  darkness 
of  Egypt,  has  lowered  down  upon  that  flood,  to  destroy 
or  to  hide  what  the  deluge  had  spared.  But  through 
all  this,  the  words  of  Christianity  have  come  down  to 
us  from  the  lips  of  that  Hebrew  youth,  gentle  and  beau- 
tiful as  the  light  of  a  star,  not  spent  by  their  journey 
through  time  and  through  space.  They  have  built  up 
a  new  civilization,  which  the  wisest  Gentile  never  hoped 
for;  which  the  most  pious  Hebrew  never  foretold. 
Through  centuries  of  wasting,  these  words  have  flown 


156  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

on,  like  a  dove  in  the  storm,  and  now  wait  to  descend 
on  hearts  pure  and  earnest,  as  the  Father's  spirit,  we  are 
told,  came  down  on  his  lowly  Son.  The  old  heavens 
and  the  old  earth  are  indeed  passed  away,  but  the  Word 
stands.  Nothing  shows  clearer  than  this,  how  fleeting 
is  what  man  calls  great ;  how  lasting  what  God  pro- 
nounces true. 

Looking  at  the  "Word  of  Jesus,  at  real  Christianity, 
the  pure  religion  he  taught,  nothing  appears  more  fixed 
and  certain.  Its  influence  widens  as  light  extends ;  it 
deepens  as  the  nations  grow  more  wise.  Bnt,  looking 
at  the  history  of  what  men  call  Christianity,  nothing 
seems  more  uncertain  and  perishable.  While  true  re- 
ligion is  always  the  same  thing,  in  each  century  and 
every  land,  in  each  man  that  feels  it,  the  Christianity  of 
the  Pulpit,  which  is  the  religion  taught ;  the  Christianity 
of  the  People,  which  is  the  religion  that  is  accepted  and 
lived  out ;  has  never  been  the  same  thing  in  any  two 
centuries  or  lands,  except  only  in  name.  The  difftn-ence 
between  what  is  called  Christianity  by  the  Unitarians 
in  our  times,  and  that  of  some  ages  past,  is  greater  than 
the  diflerence  "between  Mahomet  and  the  Messiah. 
The  diflerence  at  this  day  between  opposing  classes  of 
Christians ;  the  difference  between  the  Christianity  of 
some  sects,  and  that  of  Christ  himself;  is  deeper  and 
more  vital  than  that  between  Jesus  and  Plato,  Pagan  as 
we  call  him.  The  Christianity  of  the  seventh  century 
has  passed  away.  We  recognize  only  the  ghost  of  Su- 
perstition in  its  faded  features,  as  it  comes  up  at  our 
call.  It  is  one  of  the  things  which  has  been,  and  can 
be  no  more,  foi'  neither  God  nor  the  world  goes  back. 
Its  terrors  do  not  frighten,  nor  its  hopes  allure  us.  We 
rejoice  that  it  has  gone.     But  how  do  we  know  that  our 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  157 

Christianity  shall  not  share  the  same  fate  ?  Is  there 
that  difference  between  the  nineteenth  century,  and 
some  seventeen  that  have  gone  before  it,  since  Jesus,  to 
warrant  the  belief  that  our  notion  of  Clwistianity  shall 
last  forever  ?  The  stream  of  time  has  already  beat 
down  Philosophies  and  Theologies,  Temple  and  Church, 
though  never  so  old  and  revered.  How  do  we  know 
there  is  not  a  perishing  element  in  what  we  call  Chris- 
tianity? Jesus  tells  us,  his  Word  is  the  word  of  God,. 
and  so  shall  never  pass  away.  But  who  tells  us,  that 
our  word  shall  never  pass  away  ?  that  our  notion  of  his 
Word  shall  stand  forever  ? 

Let  us  look  at  this  matter  a  little  more  closely.  In. 
actual  Christianity  —  that  is,  in  that  portion  of  Chris- 
tianity which  is  preached  and  believed  —  there  seem  to 
have  been,  ever  since  the  time  of  its  earthly  founder, 
two  elements,  the  one  transient,  the  other  permanent. 
The  one  is  the  thought,  the  folly,  the  uncertain  wisdom, 
the  theological  notions,  the  impiety  of  man ;  the  other, 
the  eternal  truth  of  God.  These  two  bear  perhaps  the 
same  relation  to  each  other  that  the  phenomena  of  out- 
ward nature,  such  as  sunshine  and  cloud,  growth,  de- 
cay, and  reproduction,  bear  to  the  great  law  of  ^  nature, 
which  underlies  and  supports  them  all.  As  in  that  case, 
more  attention  is  commonly  paid  to  the  particular  phe- 
nomena than  to  the  general  law ;  so  in  this  case,  more 
is  generally  given  to  the  Transient  in  Christianity  than 
to  the  Permanent  therein. 

It  must  be  confessed,  though  with  sorrow,  that  tran- 
sient things  form  a  great  part  of  what  is  commonly 
taught  as  Religion.  An  undue  place  has  often  been 
assigned  to  forms  and  doctrines,  while  too  little  stress 

has  been  laid  on  the  divine  life  of  the  soul,  love  to  God, 

14 


158  THE    TRANSIENT    AND    PERMANENT 

and  love  to  man.  Religious  forms -may  be  useful  and 
beautiful.  They  are  so,  whenever  they  speak  to  the 
soul,  and  answer  a  want  thereof.  In  our  present  state, 
some  forms  are  perhaps  necessary.  But  they  are  only 
the  accident  of  Christianity ;  not  its  substance.  They 
are  the  robe,  not  the  angel,  who  may  take  another  robe, 
quite  Is  becoming  and  useful.  One  sect  has  many 
forms ;  another  none.  Yet  both  may  be  equally  Chris- 
tian, in  spite  of  the  redundance  or  the  deficiency.  They 
are  a  part  of  the  language  in  which  religion  speaks, 
and  exist,  with  few  exceptions,  wherever  man  is  found. 
In  our  calculating  nation,  in  our  rationalizing  sect,  we 
have  retained  but  two  of  the  rites  so  numerous  in  the 
early  Christian  church,  and  even  these  we  have  atten- 
uated to  the  last  degree,  leaving  them  little  more  than  a 
spectre  of  the  ancient  form.  Another  age  may  con- 
tinue or  forsake  both;  may  revive  old  forms,  or  invent 
new  ones  to  suit  the  altered  circumstances  of  the  times, 
and  yet  be  Christians  quite  as  good  as  we,  or  our 
fathers  of  the  dark  ages.  Whether  the  Apostles  de- 
signed these  rights  to  be  perpetual,  seems  a  question 
which  belongs  to  scholars  and  antiquarians  ;  not  to  us, 
as  Christian  men  and  women.  So  long  as  they  satisfy 
or  help  the  pious  heart,  so  long  they  are  good.  Look- 
ing behind,  or  around  us,  we  see  that  the  forms  and 
rites  of  the  Christians  are  quite  as  fluctuating  as  those 
of  the  heathens ;  from  whom  some  of  them  have  been, 
not  unwisely,  adopted  by  the  earlier  church. 

Again,  the  doctrines  that  have  been  connected  with 
Christianity,  and  taught  in  its  name,  are  quite  as 
changeable  as  the  form.  This  also  takes  place  una- 
voidably. If  observations  be  made  upon  Nature, — 
which  must  take  place  so  long  as  man  has  senses  and 
understanding,  —  there  will  be  a  philosophy  of  Nature, 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  159 

and  philosophical  doctrines.    These  will  differ  as  the  ob- 
servations are  just  or  inaccurate,  and  as  the  deductions 
from  observed  facts  are  true  or  false.     Hence  there  will 
be  different  schools  of  natural  philosopljy,  so  long  as 
men  have  eyes  and  understandings  of  different  clear- 
ness and    strength.     And  if  men    observe    and  reflect 
upon  Religion,  —  which  will  be  done  so  long  as  man  is 
a  religious  and  reflective  being,  —  there  must  also  be  a 
philosophy  of  religion,  a  theology  and  theological  doc- 
trines.   These  will  differ,  as  men  have  felt  much  or  little 
of  religion,  as  they  analyze  their  sentiments  correctly  or 
otherwise,  and  as  they  have  reasoned  right  or  wrono-. 
Now  the  true  system  of  Nature  which  exists  in  the  out- 
ward facts,  whether  discovered  or  not,  is  always  the 
same  thing,  though  the   philosophy  of  Nature,  which 
men  invent,  change  every  month,  and  be  one  thing  at 
London  and  the  opposite  at  Berlin.     Thus  there  is  but 
one  system  of  Nature  as  it  exists  in  fact,  though  many 
theories  of  Nature,  w  hich  exist  in  our  imperfect  notions 
of  that  system,  and  by  which  we  may  approximate  and 
at  length  reach  it.     Now  there  can  be  but  one  Religion 
which  is  absolutely  true,  existing  in  the  facts  of  human 
nature,  and  the  ideas  of  Infinite  God.     That,  whether 
acknowledged   or    not,  is   always  the  same  thing  and 

never  changes.    So  far  as  a  man  has  any  real  religion • 

either  the  principle  or  the  sentiment  thereof—  so  far  he 
has  that,  by  whatever  name  he  may  call  it.  For,  strictly 
speaking,  there  is  but  one  kind  of  religion,  as  there  is 
but  one  kind  of  love,  though  the  manifestations  of  this 
religion,  in  forms,  doctrines,  and  life,  be  never  so  di- 
verse. It  is  through  these,  men  approximate  to  the  true 
expression  of  this  religion.  Now  while  this  religion  is 
one  and  always  the  same  thing,  there  may  be  numerous 
systems  of  theology  or  philosophies  of  religion.     These 


160  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

with  their  creeds,  confessions,  and  collections  of  doc- 
trines, deduced  by  reasoning  upon  the  facts  observed, 
may  be  baseless  and  false,  either  because  the  observa- 
tion was  too.  narrow  in  extent,  or  otherwise  defective  in 
point  of  accuracy,  or  because  the  reasoning  was  illogi- 
cal, and  therefore  the  deduction  spurious.  Each  of 
these  three  faults  is  conspicuous  in  the  systems  of  the- 
ology. Now  the  solar  system  as  it  exists  in  fact  is  per- 
manent, though  the  notions  of  Thales  and  Ptolemy,  of 
Copernicus  and  Descartes  about  this  system,  prove 
transient,  imperfect  approximations  to  the  true  expres- 
sion. So  the  Christianity  of  Jesus  is  permanent,  though 
what  passes  for  Christianity  with  Popes  and  catechisms, 
with  sects  and  churches,  in  the  first  century  or  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  prove  transient  also.  Now  it  has 
sometimes  happened  that  a  man  took  his  philosophy  of 
Nature  at  second  han4}  and  then  attempted  to  make  his 
observations  conform  to  his  theory,  and  Nature  ride  in 
his  panniers.  Thus  some  philosophers  refused  to  look 
at  the  Moon  through  Galileo's  telescope,  for,  according 
to  their  theory  of  vision,  such  an  instrument  would  not 
aid  the  sight.  Thus  their  preconceived  notions  stood 
up  between  them  and  Nature.  Now  it  has  often  hap- 
pened that  men  took  their  theology  thus  at  second  hand, 
"and  distorted  the  history  of  the  world  and  man's  nature 
besides,  to  make  Religion  conform  to  their  notions. 
Their  theology  stood  between  them  and  God.  Those 
obstinate  philosophers  have  disciples  in  no  small  num- 
ber. 

What  another  has  said  of  false  systems  of  science, 
will  apply  equally  to  the  popular  theology :  "  It  is  bar- 
ren in  effects,  fruitful  in  questions,  slow  and  languid  in 
its  improvement,  exhibiting  in  its  generality  the  coun- 
terfeit of  perfection,  but  ill  filled  up  in  its  details,  popu- 


IN    CHRISTIANITY.  161 

lar  in  its  choice,  but  suspected  by  its  very  promoters, 
and  therefore  bolstered  up  and  countenanced  with  arti- 
fices. Even  those  who  have  been  determined  to  try  for 
themselves,  to  add  their  support  to  leafping,  and  to 
enlarge  its  limits,  have  not  dared  entirely  to  desert  re- 
ceived opinions,  nor  to  seek  the  spring-head  of  things. 
But  they  think  they  have  done  a  great  thing  if  they  in- 
tersperse and  contribute  something  of  their  own ;  pru- 
dently considering,  that  by  their  assent  they  can  save 
their  modesty,  and  by  their  contributions,  their  liberty. 
Neither  is  there,  nor  ever  will  be,  an  end  or  limit  to 
these  things.  One  snatches  at  one  thing,  another  is 
pleased  with  another ;  there  is  no  dry  nor  clear  sight  of 
any  thing.  Every  one  plays  the  philosopher  out  of  the 
small  treasures  of  his  own  fancy.  The  more  sublime 
wits  more  acutely  and  with  better  success ;  the  duller 
with  less  success  but  equal  obstinacy,  and,  by  the  disci- 
pline of  some  learned  men,  sciences  are  bounded  within 
the  limits  of  some  certain  authors  which  they  have  set 
down,  imposing  upon  them  old  men  and  instilling  them 
into  young.  So  that  now  (as  Tully  cavilled  upon 
Caesar's  consulship)  the  star  Lyra  riseth  by  an  edict, 
and  authority  is  taken  for  truth  and  not  truth  for  au- 
thority ;  which  kind  of  order  and  discipline  is  very  con- 
venient for  our  present  use,  but  banisheth  those  which 
are  better." 

Any  one,  who  traces  the  history  of  what  is  called 
Christianity,  will  see  that  nothing  changes  more  from 
age  to  age  than  the  doctrines  taught  as  Christian,  and 
insisted  on  as  essential  to  Christianity  and  personal  sal- 
vation. What  is  falsehood  in  one  province  passes  for 
truth  in  another.  The  heresy  of  one  age  is  the  ortho- 
dox belief  and  "  only  infallible  rule  "  of  the  next.     Now 

14* 


162  THE   TRAXSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

Arius,  and  now  Athanasius  is  Lord  of  the  ascendant. 
Both  were  excommunicated  in  their  turn,  each  for 
affirming  what  the  other  denied.  Men  are  burned  for 
professing  what  men  are  burned  for  denying.  For  cen- 
turies the  doctrines  of  the  Christians  were  no  better,  to 
say  the  least,  than  those  of  their  contemporary  pagans. 
The  theological  doctrines  derived  from  om-  fathers  seem 
to  have  come  from  Judaism,  Heathenism,  and  the  ca- 
price of  philosophers,  far  more  than  they  have  come 
from  the  principle  and  sentiment  of  Christianity.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  the  very  Achilles  of  theological 
dogmas,  belongs  to  philosophy  and  not  religion  ;  its  sub- 
tleties cannot  even  be  expressed  in  our  tongue.  As  old 
religions  became  superannuated  and  died  out,  they  left 
to  the  rising  faith,  as  to  a  residuary  legatee,  their  forms 
and  their  doctrines  ;  or  rather,  as  the  giant  in  the  fable 
left  his  poisoned  garment  to  work  the  overthrow  of  his 
conqueror.  Many  tenets,  that  pass  current  in  our  theol- 
ogy, seem  to  be  the  refuse  of  idol  temples  ;  the  ofTscour- 
in-gs  of  Jewish  and  heathen  .cities,  rather  tTian  the  sands 
of  virgin  gold,  which  the  stream  of  Christianity  has 
worn  otT  from  the  rock  of  ages,  and  brought  in  its 
bosom  for  us.  It  is  wood,  hay,  and  stubble,  wherewith 
men  have  built  on  the  corner-stone  Christ  laid.  What 
wonder  the  fabric  is  in  peril  when  tried  by  fire?  The 
stream  of  CluMstianity,  as  men  receive  it,  has  caughta 
stain  from  every  soil  it  has  filtered  through,  so  that  now 
it  is  not  the  pure  water  from  the  \vell  of  Life,  which  is 
ofl'ercd  to  our  lij)s,  but  streams  troubled  and  polluted  by 
man  with  mire  and  dirt.  If  Paul  and  Jesus  could  read 
our  books  of  theological  doctrines,  would  they  accept 
as  their  teaching,  what  men  have  vented  in  their  name? 
Never  till  the  letters  of  Paul  had  faded  out  of  his  mem- 
ory; never  till  the  words  of  Jesus  had  been  torn  out 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  163 

from  the  Book  of  Life.  It  is  their  notions  about  Chris- 
tianity men  have  taught  as  the  only  living  word  of 
God.  They  have  piled  their  own  rubbish  against  the 
temple  of  Truth  where  Piety  comes  up^  to  worship  ; 
what  wonder  the  pile  seems  unshapely  and  like  to  fall  ? 
But  these  theological  doctrines  are  fleeting  as  the  leaves 
on  the  trees.     They 

"  Are  found 
Now  green  in  youth,  now  withered  on  the  ground  ; 
Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies ; 
They  fall  successive  and  successive  rise." 

Like  the  clouds  of  the  sky,  they  are  here  to-day;  to- 
morrow, all  swept  off  and  vanished ;  while  Christianity 
itself,  like  the  heaven  above,  with  its  sun,  and  moon, 
and  uncounted  stars,  is  always  over  our  head,  though 
the  cloud  sometimes  debars  us  of  the  needed  light.  It 
must  of  necessity  be  the  case  that  our  reasonings,  and 
therefore  our  theological  doctrines,  are  imperfect,  and 
so  perishing.  It  is  only  gradually  that  we  approach  to 
the  true  system  of  Nature  by  observation  and  reason- 
ing, and  work  out  our  philosophy  and  theology  by  the 
toil  of  the  brain.  But  meantime,  if  we  are  faithful,  the 
great  truths  of  morality  and  religion,  the  deep  sentiment 
of  love  to  man  and  love  to  God,  are  perceived  intui- 
tively, and  by  instinct,  as  it  were,  though  our  theology 
be  imperfect  and  miserable.  The  theological  notions  of 
Abraham,  to  take  the  story  as  it  stands,  were  exceed- 
ingly gross,  yet  a  greater  than  Abraham  has  told  us 
Abraham  desired  to  see  my  day,  saw  it,  and  was  glad. 
Since  these  notions  are  so  fleeting,  why  need  we  accept 
the  commandment  of  men,  as  the  doctrine  of  God  ? 

This  transitoriness  of  doctrines  appears,  in  many  in- 


164  THE    TP.AXSIENT    AND    PERMANENT 

stances,  of  which  two  may  be  selected  for  a  more  atten- 
tive consideration.  First,  the  doctrine  respecting  the 
origin  and  authority  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament. 
There  has  bcftin  a  time  when  men  were  burned  for 
asserting  doctrines  of  natural  philosophy,  which  rested 
on  evidence  the  most  incontestable,  because  those  doc- 
trines conllicted  with  sentences  in  the  Old  Testament. 
Every  word  of  that  Jewish  record  was  regarded  as 
miraculously  inspired,  and  therefore  as  infallibly  true. 
It  was  believed  that  the  Christian  religion  itself  rested 
thereon,  and  must  stand  or  fall  with  the  immaculate 
Hebrew  text.  He  was  deemed  no  small  sinner  who 
found  mistakes  in  the  manuscripts.  On  the  authority 
of  the  written  Word,  man  was  taught  to  believe  impos- 
sible legends,  conflicting  assertions;  to  take  fiction  for 
fact;  a  dream  for  a  miraculous  revelation  of  God;  an 
oriental  poem  for  a  grave  history  of  miraculous  events ; 
a  collection  of  amatory  idyls  for  a  serious  discourse 
''  touching  the  mutual  love  of  Christ  and  the  Church ; " 
they  have  been  taught  to  accept  a  picture  sketched  by 
some  glowing  eastern  imagination,  never  intended  to 
be  taken  for  a  reality,  as  a  proof  that  the  Infinite  God 
spoke  in  human  words,  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a  cloud, 
a  flaming  bush,  or  a  man  who  ate,  and  drank,  and  van- 
ished into  smoke ;  that  he  gave  counsels  to-day,  and 
the  opposite  to-morrow;  that  lie  violated  his  own  laws; 
was  angry,  and  was  only  dissuaded  by  a  mortal  man 
from  destroying  at  once  a  whole  nation  —  millions  of 
men  wlio  rebelled  against  their  leader  in  a  moment  of 
anguish.  Ci,uestions  in  philosophy,  questions  in  the 
Christian  religion,  have  been  settled  by  an  appeal  to 
that  book.  The  inspiration  of  its  authors  has  been 
assumed  as  infallible.  Every  fact  in  the  early  Jewish 
history  lias  been  taken  as  a  type  of  some  analogous 


IN    CHRISTIANITY.  165 

fact  in  Christian  history.  The  most  distant  events, 
even  such  as  are  still  in  the  arms  of  time,  were  supposed 
to  be  clearly  foreseen  and  foretold  by  pious  Hebrews 
several  centuries  before  Christ.  It  has  beew  assumed  at 
the  outset,  with  no  shadow  of  evidence,  that  those 
writers  held  a  miraculous  communication  with  God, 
such  as  he  has  granted  to  no  other  man.  What  was 
originally  a  presumption  of  bigoted  Jews  became  an 
article  of  faith,  which  Christians  were  burned  for  not 
believing.  This  has  been  for  centuries  the  general 
opinion  of  the  Christian  church,  both  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  though  the  former  never  accepted  the  Bible 
as  the  only  source  of  religious  truth.  It  has  been  so. 
Still  worse,  it  is  now  the  general  opinion  of  religious 
sects  at  this  day.  Hence  the  attempt,  which  always 
fails,  to  reconcile  the  philosophy  of  our  times  with  the 
poems  in  Genesis  writ  a  thousand  years  before  Christ; 
hence  the  attempt  to  conceal  the  contradictions  in  the 
record  itself  Matters  have  come  to  such  a  pass,  that 
even  now  he  is  deemed  an  infidel,  if  not  by  implication 
an  atheist,  \those  reverence  for  the  Most  High  forbids 
him  to  believe  that  God  commanded  Abraham  to  sacri- 
fice his  Son,  a  thought  at  which  the  flesh  creeps  with 
horror ;  to  believe  it  solely  on  the  authority  of  an 
oriental  story,  written  down  nobody  knows  when  or  by 
whom,  or  for  what  purpose ;  which  may  be  a  poem,  but 
cannot  be  the  record  of  a  fact,  unless  God  is  the  author 
of  confusion  and  a  lie. 

Now  this  idolatry  of  the  Old  Testament  has  not 
always  existed.  Jesus  says  that  none  born  of  a  woman 
is  greater  than  John  the  Baptist,  yet  the  least  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  was  greater  than  John.  Paul  tells 
us  the  Law  —  the  very  crown  of  the  old  Hebrew  reve- 
lation—  is  a  shadow  of  good  things,  which  have  now 


166  THE   TRANSIENT   AND    PERMANENT 

come  ;  only  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  us  to  Christ,  and 
when  faith  has  come,  that  we  are  no  longer  under  the 
schoolmaster ;  that  it  was  a  law  of  sin  and  death,  from 
which  we  are  made  free  by  the  Law  of  the  spirit  of 
Life.  Christian  teachers  themselves  have  differed  so 
widely  in  their  notion  of  the  doctrines  and  meaning  of 
those  books,  that  it  makes  one  weep  to  think  of  the 
follies  deduced  therefrom.  But  modern  Criticism  is  fast . 
breaking  to  pieces  this  idol  which  men  have  made  out 
of  the  Scriptures.  It  has  shown  that  here  are  the  most 
different  works  thrown  together.  That  their  authors, 
wise  as  they  sometimes  were;  pious  as  we  feel  often 
their  spirit  to  have  been,  had  only  that  inspiration  which 
is  common  to  other  men  equally  pious  and  wise ;  that 
they  were  by  no  means  infallible;  but  were  mistaken  in 
facts  or  in  reasoning;  uttered  predictions  which  time 
has  not  fulfilled ;  men  who  in  some  measure  partook  of 
the  darkness  and  limited  notions  of  their  age,  and 
were  not  always  above  its  mistakes  or  its  corruptions. 

The'  history  of  opinions  on  the  New  Testament  is 
quite  'similar.  It  has  been  assumed  at  the  outset,  it 
would  seem  with  no  sufficient  reason,  without  the 
smallest  pretence  on  its  writers'  part,  that  all  of  its 
authors  were  infallibly  and  miraculously  inspired,  so 
that  they  could  commit  no  error  of  doctrine  or  fact. 
Men  have  been  bid  to  close  their  eyes  at  the  obvious 
difference  between  Luke  and  John;  the  serious  disa- 
greement between  Paul  and  Peter ;  to  believe,  on  the 
smallest  evidence,  accounts  which  shock  the  moral 
sense  and  revolt  the  reason,  and  tend  to  place  Jesus  in 
the  same  series  with  Hercule^,  and  ApoUonius  of 
Tyana;  accounts  which  Paul  in  the  Epistles  never 
mentions,  though  he  also  had  a  vein  of  the  miraculous 
running  quite  through  him.     Men  have  been  told  that 


IN   CHKISTIANITY.  167 

all  these  things  must  be  taken  as  part  of  Christianity, 
■  and  if  they  accepted  the  religion,  they  must  take  all 
these  accessories  along  with  it;  that  the  living  spirit 
could  not  be  had  without  the  killing  letter.  All  the 
books,  which  caprice  or  accident  had  brought  together 
between  the  lids  of  the  Bible,  were  declared  to  be  the 
infallible  word  of  God ;  the  only  certain  rule  of  religious 
faith  and  practice.  Thus  the  Bible  was  made  not  a 
single  channel,  but  the  only  certain  rule  of  religious 
faith  and  practice.  To  disbelieve  any  of  its  statements, 
or  even  the  common  interpretation  put  upon  those  state- 
ments by  the  particular  age  or  church  in  which  the  man 
belonged,  was  held  to  be  infidelity  if  not  atheism.  In 
the  name  of  him  who  forbid  us  to  judge  our  brother, 
good  men  and  pious  men  have  applied  these  terms  to 
others,  good  and  pious  as  themselves.  That  state  of 
things  has  by  no  means  passed  away.  Men,  who  cry 
down  the  absurdities  of  Paganism  in  the  worst  spirit 
of  the  French  "free-thinkers,"  call  others  infidels  and 
atheists,  who  point  out,  though  reverently,  other  absurd- 
ities whici  men  have  piled  upon  Christianity.  So  the 
world  goes.  An  idolatrous  regard  for  the  imperfect 
scripture  of  God's  word,  is  the  apple  of  Atalanta, 
which  defeats  theologians  running  for  the  hand  of  divine 
truth. 

But  the  current  notions  respecting  the  infallible  inspi- 
ration of  the  Bible  have  no  foundation  in  the  Bible 
itself.  Which  Evangelist,  which  Apostle  of  the  New 
Testament,  what  Prophet  or  Psalmist  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, ever  claims  infallible  authority  for  himself  or  for 
others  ?  Which  of  them  does  not  in  his  own  writings 
show  that  he  was  finite,  and  with  all  his  zeal  and  piety, 
possessed  but  a  limited  inspiration,  the  bound  whereof 
we  can  sometimes  discover  ?     Did  Christ  ever  demand 


168  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

that  men  should  assent  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, credit  its  stories,  and  take  its  poems  for  histories, 
and  believe  equally  two  accounts  that  contradict  one 
another?  Has  he  ever  told  you  that  all  the  truths  of 
his  religion,  all  the  beauty  of  a  Christian  life  should  be 
contained  in  the  writings  of  those  men,  who,  even  after 
his  resurrection,  expected  him  to  be  a  Jewish  king;  of' 
men  who  were  sometimes  at  variance  with  one  another 
and  misunderstood  his  divine  teachings?  Would  not 
those  modest  writers  themselves  be  confounded  at  the 
idolatry  we  pay  them  ?  Opinions  may  change  on  these 
points,  as  they  have  often  changed  —  changed  greatly 
and  for  the  worst  since  the  days  of  Paul.  They  are 
changing  now,  and  we  may  hope  for  the  better ;  for 
God  makes  man's  folly  as  well  as  his  wrath  to  praise 
Him,  and  continually  brings  good  out  of  evil. 

Another  instance  of  the  transitoriness  of  doctrines, 
taught  as  Christian,  is  found  in  those  which  relate  to 
the  nature  and  authority  of  Christ.  One  ancient  party 
has  told  us,  that  he  is  the  infinite  God;  another,  that  he 
is  both  God  and  man ;  a  third,  that  he  was  a  man,  the 
son  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  —  born  as  we  are ;  temjjted 
like  ourselves ;  inspired,  as  we  may  be,  if  we  will  pay 
the  price.  Each  of  the  former  parties  believed  its  doc- 
trine on  this  head  was  infallibly  true,  and  formed  the 
very  substance  of  Christianity,  and  was  one  of  the 
essential  conditions  of  salvation,  though  scarce  any  two 
distinguished  teachers,  of  ancient  or  modern  times, 
agree  in  their  expression  of  this  truth. 

Almost  every  sect,  that  has  ever  been,  makes  Chris- 
tianity rest  on  the  personal  authority  of  Jesus,  and  not 
the  immutable  truth  of  the  doctrines  themselves,  or  the 
authority  of  God,  who  sent  him  into  the  world.     Yet  it 


IN    CHRISTIANITY.  169 

seems  difficult  to  conceive  any  reason,  why  moral  and 
religious  truths  should  rest  for  their  support  on  the  per- 
sonal authority  of  their  revealer,  any  more  than  the 
truths  of  science  on  that  of  him  who  "ttiakes  them 
known  first  or  most  clearly.  It  is  hard  to  see  why  the 
great  truths  of  Christianity  rest  on  the  personal  authority 
of  Jesus,  more  than  the  axioms  of  geometry  rest  on  the 
personal  authority  of  Euclid,  or  Archimedes.  The  au- 
thority of  Jesus,  as  of  all  teachers,  one  would  naturally 
think,  must  rest  on  the  truth  of  his  words,  and  not  their 
truth  on  his  authority. 

Opinions  respecting  the  nature  of  Christ  seem  to  be 
constantly  changing.  In  the  three  first  centuries  after 
Christ,  it  appears,  great  latitude  of  speculation  prevailed. 
Some  said  he  was  God,  with  nothing  of  human  nature, 
his  body  only  an  illusion  ;  others,  that  he  was  man,  with 
nothing  of  the  divine  nature,  his  miraculous  birth  hav- 
ing no  foundation  in  fact.  In  a  few  centuries  it  was 
decreed  by  councils  that  he  was  God,  thus  honoring  the 
divine  element;  next,  that  he  was  man  also,  thus  ad- 
mitting the  human  side.  For  some  ages  the  Catholic 
Church  seems  to  have  dwelt  chiefly  on  the  divine  na- 
ture that  was  in  him,  leaving  the  human  element  to  mys- 
tics and  other  heretical  persons,  whose  bodies  served  to 
flesh  the  swords  of  orthodox  believers.  The  stream  of 
Christianity  has  come  to  us  in  two  channels  —  one 
within  the  Church,  the  other  without  the  Church  —  and 
it  is  not  hazarding  too  much  to  say,  that  since  the  fourth 
century  the  true  Christian  life  has  been  out  of  the  es- 
tablished Church,  and  not  in  it,  but  rather  in  the  ranks 
of  dissenters.  From  the  Reformation  till  the  latter  part 
of  the  last  century,  we  are  told,  the  Protestant  Church 
dwelt  chiefly  on  the  human  side  of  Christ,  and  since 
that  time  many  works  have  been  written  to  show  how 

15 


170  THE   TRANSIENT   AND    PERMANENT 

the  two  —  perfect  Deity  and  perfect  manhood — were 
united  in  his  character.  But,  all  this  time,  scarce  any 
two  eminent  teachers  agree  on  these  points,  however 
orthodox  they  may  be  called.  What  a  difference  be- 
tween the  Christ  of  John  Gerson  and  John  Calvin, — 
yet  were  both  accepted  teachers  and  pious  men.  What 
a  difference  betweeri  the  Christ  of  the  Unitarians  and 
the  Methodists  —  yet  may  men  of  both  sects  be  true 
Christians  and  acceptable  with  God,  What  a  difference 
between  the  Christ  of  Matthew  and  John  —  yet  both 
were  disciples,  and  their  influence  is  wide  as  Christen- 
dom and  deep  as  the  heart  of  man.  But  on  this  there 
is  not  time  to  enlarge. 

Now  it  seems  clear,  that  the  notion  men  form  about 
the  origin  and  nature  of  the  Scriptures;  respecting  the 
nature  and  authority  of  Christ,  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Christianity  except  as  its  aids  or  its  adversaries;  they 
are  not  the  foundation  of  its  truths.  These  are  theolog- 
ical questions ;  not  religious  questions.  Their  connec- 
tion with  Christianity  appears  accidental ;  for  if  Jesus 
had  taught  at  Athens,  and  not  at  Jerusalem ;  if  he  had 
wrought  no  miracle,  and  none  but  the  human  nature 
had  ever  been  ascribed  to  him ;  if  the  Old  Testament 
had  forever  perished  at  his  birth, —  Christianity  would 
still  have  been  the  Word  of  God;  it  would  have  lost 
none  of  its  truths.  It  would  be  just  as  true,  just  as 
beautiful,  just  as  lasting,  as  now  it  is ;  though  we 
should  have  lost  so  many  a  blessed  word,  and  the  work 
of  Christianity  itself  would  have  been,  perhaps,  a  long 
time  retarded. 

To  judge  the  future  by  the  past,  the  former  authority 
of  the  Old  .Testament  can  never  return.  Its  present 
authority  cannot  stand.     It  must  be  taken  for  what  it 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  '  171 

is  worth.  The  occasional  folly  and  impiety  of  its  au- 
thors must  pass  for  no  more  than  their  value;  —  while 
the  religion,  the  wisdom,  the  love,  which  make  fragrant 
its  leaves,  will  still  speak  to  the  best  heartsTas  hitherto, 
and  in  accents  even  more  divine,  when  Reason  is  al- 
lowed her  rights.  The  ancient  belief  in  the  infallible 
inspiration  of  each  sentence  of  the  New  Testament  is 
fast  changing;  very  fast.  One  writer,  not  a  sceptic, 
but  a  Christian  of  unquestioned  piety,  sweeps  off  the 
beginning  of  Matthew;  another,  of  a  different  church 
and  equally  religious,  the  end  of  John.  Numerous 
critics  strike  off  several  epistles.  The  Apocalypse  itself 
is  not  spared,  notwithstanding  its  concluding  curse. 
Who  shall  tell  us  the  work  of  retrenchment  is  to  stop 
here  ;  that  others  will  not  demonstrate,  what  some  pious 
hearts  have  long  felt,  that  errors  of  doctrine  and  errors 
of  fact  may  be  found  in  many  parts  of  the  record,  here 
and  there,  from  the  beginning  of  Matthew  to  the  end 
of  Acts?  We  see  how  opinions  have  changed- ever 
since  the  apostles'  time  ;  and  who  shall  assure  us  that 
they  were  not  sometimes  mistaken  in  historical,  as  well 
as  doctrinal  matters ;  did  not  sometimes  confound  the 
actual  with  the  imaginary;  and  that  the  fancy  of  these 
pious  writers  never  stood  in  the  place  of  their  recollec- 
tion ? 

But  what  if  this  should  take  place?  Is  Christianity 
then  to  perish  out  of  the  heart  of  the  nations,  and  van- 
ish from  the  memory  of  the  world,  like  the  religions  that 
were  before  Abraham  ?  It  must  be  so,  if  it  rest  on  a 
foundation  which  a  scoffer  may  shake,  and  a  score  of 
pious  critics  shake  down.  But  this  is  the  foundation  of 
a  theology,  not  of  Christianity.  That  does  not  rest  on 
the  decision  of  Councils.  It  is  not  to  stand  or  fall  with 
the  infallible  inspiration  of  a  few  .Jewish  fishermen,  who 


172  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

have  writ  their  names  in  characters  of  light  all  over  the 
world.  It  does  not  continue  to  stand  through  the  for- 
bearance of  some  critic,  who  can  cut,  when  he  will,  the 
thread  on  which  its  life  depends.  Christianity  does  not 
rest  on  the  infallible  authority  of  the  New  Testament. 
It  depends  on  this  collection  of  books  for  the  historical 
statement  of  its  facts.  In  this  we  do  not  require  infal- 
lible inspiration  on  the  part  of  the  writers,  more  than  in 
the  record  of  other  historical  facts.  To  me  it  seems  as 
presumptuous,  on  the  one  hand,  for  the  believer  to  claim 
this  evidence  for  the  truth  of  Christianity,  as  it  is  ab- 
surd, on  the  other  hand,  for  the  sceptic  to  demand  such 
evidence  to  support  these  historical  statements.  I  can- 
not see  that  it  depends  on  the  personal  authority  of 
Jesus.  He  was  the  organ  through  which  the  Infinite 
spoke.  It  is  God  that  was  manifested  in  the  flesh  by 
him,  on  whom  rests  the  truth  which  Jesus  brought  to 
light  and  made  clear  and  beautiful  in  his  life ;  and  if 
Christianity  be  true,  it  seems  useless  to  look  for  any 
other  authority  to  uphold  it,  as  for  some  one  to  support 
Almighty  God.  So  if  it  could  be  proved,  —  as  it  can- 
not,—  in  opposition  to  the  greatest  amount  of  historical 
evidence  ever  collected  on  any  similar  point,  that  the 
gospels  were  the  fabrication  of  designing  and  artful 
men,  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  had  never  lived,  still  Chris- 
tianity would  stand  firm,  and  fear  no  evil.  None  of  the 
doctrines  of  that  religion  would  fall  to  the  ground;  for 
if  true,  they  stand  by  themselves.  But  we  should 
lose,  —  oh,  irreparable  loss  I  — the  example  of  that  char- 
acter, so  beautiful,  so  divine,  that  no  human  genius 
could  have  conceived  it,  as  none,  after  all  the  progress 
and  refinement  of  eighteen  centuries,  seems  fully  to 
have  comprehended  its  lustrous  life.  If  Christianity 
were  true,  we  should  still  think  it  was  so,  not  because 


IN  CHRISTIANITY.  173 

its  record  was  written  by  infallible  pens  ;  nor  because  it 
was  lived  out  by  an  infallible  teacher,  —  but  that  it  is 
true,  like  the  axioms  of  geometry,  because  it  is  true, 
and  is  to  be  tried  by  the  oracle  God  placesi'n  the  breast. 
If  it  rest  on  the  personal  authority  of  Jesus  alone,  then 
there  is  no  certainty  of  its  truth,  if  he  were  ever  mis- 
taken, in  the  smallest  matter,  as  some  Christians  have 
thought  he  was,  in  predicting  his  second  coming. 

These  doctrines  respecting  the  Scriptures  have  often 
changed,  and  are  but  fleeting.  Yet  men  lay  much  stress 
on  them.  Some  cling  to  these  notions  as  if  they  were 
Christianity  itself.  It  is  about  these  and  similar  points 
that  theological  battles  are  fought  from  age  to  age. 
Men  sometimes  use  worst  the  choicest  treasure  which 
God  bestows.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  use  men 
make  of  the  Bible.  Some  men  have  regarded  it  as  the 
heathen  their  idol,  or  the  savage  his  fetish.  They  have 
subordinated  Reason,  Conscience,  and  Religion  to  this. 
Thus  have  they  lost  half  the  treasure  it  bears  in  its 
bosom.  No  doubt  the  time  will  come  when  its  true 
character  shall  be  felt.  Then  it  will  be  seen,  that,  amid 
all  the  contradictions  of  the  Old  Testament ;  its  legends 
so  beautiful  as  fictions,  so  appalling  as  facts  ;  amid  its 
predictions  that  have  never  been  fulfilled ;  amid  the 
puerile  conceptions  of  God,  which  sometimes  occur, 
and  the  cruel  denunciations  that  disfigure  both  Psalm 
and  Prophecy,  there  is  a  reverence  for  man's  nature,  a 
sublime  trust  in  God,  and  a  depth  of  piety  rarely  felt  in 
these  cold  northern  hearts  of  ours.  Then  the  devotion 
of  its  authors,  the  loftiness  of  their  aim,  and  the  majes- 
ty of  their  life,  will  appear  doubly  fair,  and  Prophet 
and  Psalmist  will  warm  our  hearts  as  never  before. 
Their  voice  will  cheer  the  young  and  sanctify  the  gray- 

15* 


174  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

headed ;  will  charm  us  in  the  toil  of  life,  and  sweeten 
the  cup  Death  gives  us,  when  he  comes  to  shake  off 
this  mantle  of  flesh.  Then  will  it  be  seen,  that  the 
words  of  Jesus  are  the  music  of  heaven,  sung  in  an 
earthly  voice,  and  the  echo  of  these  words  in  John  and 
Paul  owe  their  efficacy  to  their  truth  and  their  depth, 
and  to  no  accidental  matter  connected  therewith.  Then 
can  the  Word,  —  which  was  in  the  beginning  and  now 
is,  —  find  access  to  the  innermost  heart  of  man,  and 
speak  there  as  now  it  seldom  speaks.  Then  shall  the 
Bible,  —  which  is  a  whole  library  of  the  deej)est  and 
most  earnest  thoughts  and  feelings  and  piety  and  love, 
ever  recorded  in  human  speech,  —  be  read  oftener  than 
ever  before,  not  with  Superstition,  but  with  Reason, 
Conscience,  and  Faith  fully  active.  Then  shall  it  sus- 
tain men  bowed  down  with  many  sorrows ;  rebuke  sin ; 
encourage  virtue ;  sow  the  world  broadcast  and  quick 
with  the  seed  of  love,  that  man  may  reap  a  harvest  for 
life  everlasting. 

With  all  the  obstacles  men  have  thrown  in  its  path, 
how  much  has  the  Bible  done  for  mankind.  No  abuse 
has  deprived  us  of  all  its  blessings.  You  trace  its  path 
across  the  world  from  the  day  of  Pentecost  to  this  day. 
As  a  river  springs  up  in  the  heart  of  a  sandy  continent, 
having  its  father  in  the  skies  and  its  birthplace  in  dis- 
tant, unknown  mountains  ;  as  the  stream  rolls  on,  en- 
larging itself,  making  in  that  arid  waste  a  belt  of  verdure, 
wherever  it  turns  its  way ;  creating  palm  groves  and 
fertile  plains,  where  the  smoke  of  the  cottager  curls  up 
at  eventide,  and  marble  cities  send  the  gleam  of  their 
splendor  far  into  the  sky;  —  such  has  been  the  course 
of  the  Bible  on  the  earth.  Despite  of  idolaters  bowing 
to  the  dust  before  it,  it  has  made  a  deeper  mark  on  the 
world  than  the  rich  and  beautiful  literature  of  all  the 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  175 

heathen.  The  first  book  of  the  Old  Testament  tells 
man  he  is  made  in  the  image  of  God  ;  the  first  of  the 
New  Testament  gives  us  the  motto,  Be  perfect  as  your 
Father  in  heaven.  Higher  words  were  nfrver  spoken. 
How  the  truths  of  the  Bible  have  blest  us.  There  is 
not  a  boy  on  all  the  hills  of  New  England ;  not  a  girl 
born  in  the  filthiest  cellar  which  disgraces  a  capital  in 
Europe,  and  cries  to  God  against  the  barbarism  of 
modern  civilization ;  not  a  boy  nor  a  girl  all  Christen- 
dom through,  but  their  lot  is  made  better  by  that  great 
book. 

Doubtless  the  time  will  come  when  men  shall  see 
Christ  also  as  he  is.  Well  might  he  still  say:  "  Have  I 
been  so  long  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known 
me?"  No!  we  have  made  him  an  idol,  have  bowed 
the  knee  before  him,  saying,  "  Hail,  king  of  the  Jews;" 
called  him  "Lord,  Lord!"  but  done  not  the  things 
which  he  said.  The  history  of  the  Christian  world 
might  well  be  summed  up  in  one  word  of  the  evange- 
list—  "and  there  they  crucified  him,"  for  there  has 
never  been  an  age  when  men  did  not  crucify  the  Son  of 
God  afresh.  But  if  error  prevail  for  a  time  and  grow 
old  in  the  world,  truth  will  triumph  at  the  last,  and  then 
we  shall  see  the  Son  of  God  as  he  is.  Lifted  up  he 
shall  draw  all  nations  unto  him.  Then  will  men  under- 
stand the  Word  of  Jesus,  which  shall  not  pass  away. 
Then  shall  we  see  and  love  the  divine  life  that  he  lived. 
How  vast  has  his  influence  been.  How  his  spirit 
wrought  in  the  hearts  of  his  disciples,  rude,  selfish, 
bigoted,  as  at  first  they  were.  How  it  has  wrought  in 
the  world.  His  words  judge  the  nations.  The  wisest 
son  of  man  has  not  measured  their  height.     They  speak 


176  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

to  what  is  deepest  in  profound  men  ;  what  is  holiest  in 
good  men  ;  what  is  divinest  in  religious  men.  They 
kindle  anew  the  flame  of  devotion  in  hearts  long  cold. 
They  are  Spirit  and  Life.  His  truth  was  not  derived 
from  Moses  and  Solomon  ;  but  the  light  of  God  shone 
through  him,  not  colored,  not  bent  aside.  His  life  is 
the  perpetual  rebuke  of  all  time  since.  It  condemns 
ancient  civilization  ;  it  condemns  modern  civilization. 
Wise  men  we  have  since  had,  and  good  men ;  but  this 
Galilean  youth  strode  before  the  world  whole  thousands 
of  years,  —  so  much  of  Divinity  was  in  him.  His 
words  solve  the  questions  of  this  present  age.  In  him 
the  Godlike  and  the  Human  met  and  embraced,  and  a 
divine  Life  was  born.  Measure  him  by  the  world's 
greatest  sons; — how  poor  they  are.  Try  him  by  the 
best  of  men,  —  how  little  and  low  they  appear.  Exalt 
him  as  much  as  we  may,  we  shall  yet,  perhaps,  come 
short  of  the  mark.  Bat  still  was  he  not  our  brother; 
the  son  of  man,  as  we  are ;  the  Son  of  God,  like  our- 
selves? His  excellence,  was  it  not  human  excellence? 
His  wisdom,  love,  piety,  —  sweet  and  celestial  as  they 
were,  —  are  they  not  what  we  also  may  attain?  In 
him,  as  in  a  mirror,  we  may  see  the  image  of  God,  and 
go  on  from  glory  to  glory,  till  we  are  changed  into  the 
same  image,  led  by  the  spirit  which  enlightens  the  hum- 
ble. Viewed  in  this  way,  how  beautiful  is  the  life  of 
Jesus.  Heaven  has  come  down  to  earth,  or  rather, 
earth  has  become  heaven.  The  Son  of  God,  come  of 
age,  has  taken  possession  of  his  birthright.  The 
brightest  revelation  is  this,  —  of  what  is  possible  for  all 
men,  if  not  now  at  least  hereafter.  How  pure  is  his 
spirit,  and  how  encouraging  its  words.  "  Lowly  suf- 
ferer," he  seems  to  say,  "  see  how  I  bore  the  cross.     Pa- 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  177 

tient  laborer,  be  strong;  see  how  I  toiled  for  the  un- 
thankful and  the  merciless.  Mistaken  sinner,  see  of 
what  thou  art  capable.     Rise  up,  and  be  blessed." 

But  if,  as  some  early  Christians  began  to^^do,  you  take 
a  heathen  view,  and  make  him  a  God,  the  Son  of  God 
in  a  peculiar  and  exclusive  sense  —  much  of  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  character  is  gone.  His  virtue  has  no  merit; 
his  love  no  feeling ;  his  cross  no  burden  ;  his  agony  no 
pain.  His  death  is  an  illusion ;  his  resurrection  but  a 
show.  For  if  he  were  not  a  man,  but  a  god,  what  are 
all  these  things;  what  his  words,  his  life,  his  excellence 
of  achievement?  It  is  all  nothing,  weighed  against  the 
illimitable  greatness  of  Him  who  created  the  worlds  and 
fills  up  all  time  and  space  I  Then  his  resignation  is  no 
lesson ;  his  life  no  model ;  his  death  no  triumph  to  you 
or  me,  —  who  are  not  gods,  but  mortal  men,  that  know 
not  what  a  day  shall  bring  forth,  and  walk  by  faith 
"  dim  sounding  on  our  perilous  way."  Alas,  we  have 
despaired  of  man,  and  so  cut  off  his  brightest  hope. 

In  respect  of  doctrines  as  well  as  forms  we  see  all  is 
transitory.  "  Everywhere  is  instability  and  insecurity." 
Opinions  have  changed  most,  on  points  deemed  most 
vital.  Could  we  bring  up  a  Christian  teacher  of  any 
age,  —  from  the  sixth  to  the  fourteenth  century,  for  ex- 
ample, though  a  teacher  of  undoubted  soundness  of 
faith,  whose  word  filled  the  churches  of  Christendom, 
clergymen  would  scarce  allow  him  to  kneel  at  their 
altar,  or  sit  down  with  them  at  the  Lord's  table.  His 
notions  of  Christianity  could  not  be  expressed  in  our 
forms ;  nor  could  our  notions  be  made  intelligible  to  his 
ears.  The  questions  of  his  age,  those  on  which  Chris- 
tianity was  thought  to  depend,  —  questions  which  per- 
plexed and  divided  the  subtle  doctors,  —  are  no  ques- 


178  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

tions  to  US.  The  quarrels  which  then  drove  wise  men 
mad,  now  only  excite  a  smile  or  a  tear,  as  we  are  dis- 
posed to  laugh  or  weep  at  the  frailty  of  man.  We 
have  other  straws  of  our  own  to  quarrel  for.  Their 
ancient  books  of  devotion  do  not  speak  to  us ;  their 
theology  is  a  vain  word.  To  look  back  but  a  short 
period,  the  theological  speculations  of  our  fathers  during 
the  last  tvi'o  centuries;  their  "practical  divinity;"  even 
the  sermons  written  by  genius  and  piety,  are,  with  rare 
exceptions,  found  unreadable ;  such  a  change  is  there  in 
the  doctrines. 

Now  who  shall  tell  us  that  the  change  is  to  stop 
here?  That  this  sect  or  that,  or  even  all  sects  united, 
have  exhausted  the  river  of  life,  and  received  it  all  in 
their  canonized  urns,  so  that  we  need  draw  no  more  out 
of  the  eternal  well,  but  get  refreshment  nearer  at  hand? 
Who  shall  tell  us  that  another  age  will  not  smile  at  our 
doctrines,  disputes,  and  unchristian  quarrels  about 
Christianity,  and  make  wide  the  mouth  at  men  who 
walked  brave  in  orthodox  raiment,  delighting  to  blacken 
the  names  of  heretics,  and  repeat  again  the  old  charge 
"he  hath  blasphemed?"  Who  shall  tell  us  they  will 
not  weep  at  the  folly  of  all  such  as  fancied  Truth  shone 
only  into  the  contracted  nook  of  their  school,  or  sect,  or 
coterie?  Men  of  other  times  may  look  down  equally 
on  the  heresy-hunters,  and  men  hunted  for  heresy,  and 
wonder  at  both.  The  men  of  all  ages  before  us,  were 
quite  as  confident  as  we,  that  their  opinion  was  truth  ; 
that  their  notion  was  Christianity  and  the  whole  there- 
of. The  men  who  lit  the  fires  of  persecution,  from  the 
first  martyr  to  Christian  bigotry  down  to  the  last  murder 
of  the  innocents,  had  no  doubt  their  opinion  was  divine. 
The  contest  about  transubstantiation,  and  the  immacu- 
late purity  of  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  texts  of  the  Scrip- 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  179 

tures,  was  waged  with  a  bitterness  unequalled  in  these 
days.  The  Protestant  smiles  at  one,  the  Catholic  at  the 
other,  and  men  of  sense  wonder  at  both.  It  might 
teach  us  all  a  lesson,  at  least  of  forbearancer  No  doubt, 
an  age  will  come,  in  which  ours  shall  be  reckoned  a 
period  of  darkness  —  like  the  sixth  century  —  when  men 
groped  for  the  wall  but  stumbled  and  fell,  because  they 
trusted  a  transient  notion,  not  an  eternal  truth  ;  an  age 
when  temples  were  full  of  idols,  set  up  by  human  folly, 
an  age  in  which  Christian  light  had  scarce  begun  to 
shine  into  men's  hearts.  But  while  this  change  goes 
on ;  while  one  generation  of  opinions  passes  away,  and 
another  rises  up  ;  Christianity  itself,  that  pure  Religion, 
which  exists  eternal  in  the  constitution  of  the  soul  and 
the  mind  of  God,  is  always  the  same.  The  Word  that 
was  before  Abraham,  in  the  very  beginning,  will  not 
change,  for  that  word  is  Truth.  From  this  Jesus  sub- 
tracted nothing;  to  this  he  added  nothing.  But  he 
came  to  reveal  it  as  the  secret  of  God,  that  cunning 
men  could  not  understand,  but  which  filled  the  souls  of 
men  meek  and  lowly  of  heart.  This  truth  we  owe  to 
God ;  the  revelation  thereof  to  Jesus,  our  elder  brother, 
God's  chosen  son. 

To  turn  away  from  the  disputes  of  the  Catholics  and 
the  Protestants,  of  the  Unitarian  and  the  Trinitarian,  of 
Old  School  and  New  School,  and  come  to  the  plain 
words  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  Christianity  is  a  simple 
thing;  very  simple.  It  is  absolute,  pure  Morality;  ab- 
solute, pure  Religion  ;  the  love  of  man  ;  the  love  of  God 
acting  without  let  or  hindrance.  The  only  creed  it  lays 
down  is  the  great  truth  which  springs  up  spontaneous 
in  the  holy  heart  —  there  is  a  God.  Its  watchword  is. 
Be  perfect  as  your  Father  in  Heaven.     The  only  form 


180  THE   TRANSIENT   AND    PERMANENT 

it  demands  is  a  divine  life ;  doing  the  best  thing,  in  the 
best  way,  from  the  highest  motives ;  perfect  obedience 
to  the  great  law  of.  God.  Its  sanction  is  the  voice  of 
God  in  your  heart ;  the  perpetual  presence  of  Him,  who 
made  us  and  the  stars  over  our  head ;  Christ  and  the 
Father  abiding  within  us.  All  this  is  very  simple  ;  a 
little  child  can  understand  it;  very  beautiful,  the  loftiest 
mind  can  find  nothing  so  lovely.  Try  it  by  Reason, 
Conscience,  and  Faith  —  things  highest  in  man's  nature 
—  we  see  no  redundance,  we  feel  no  deficiency.  Ex- 
amine the  particular  duties  it  enjoins ;  humility,  rever- 
ence, sobriety,  gentleness,  charity,  forgiveness,  fortitude, 
resignation,  faith,  and  active  love ;  try  the  whole  extent 
of  Christianity  so  well  summed  up  in  the  command, 
"  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind  —  thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself;"  and  is  there  any 
thing  therein  that  can  perish  ?  No,  the  very  opponents 
of  Christianity  have  rarely  found  fault  with  the  teach- 
ings of  Jesus.  The  end  of  Christianity  seems  to  be  to 
make  all  men  one  with  God  as  Christ  was  one  with 
Him ;  to  bring  them  to  such  a  state  of  obedience  and 
goodness,  that  we  shall  think  divine  thoughts  and  feel 
divine  sentiments,  and  so  keep  the  law  of  God  by  living 
a  life  of  truth  and  love.  Its  means  are  Purity  and 
Prayer;  getting  strength  from  God  and  using  it  for  our 
fellow  men  as  well  as  ourselves.  It  allows  perfect  free- 
dom. It  does  not  demand  all  men  to  think  alike,  but 
to  think  uprightly,  and  get  as  near  as  possible  at  truth  ; 
not  all  men  to  live  alike,  but  to  live  holy,  and  get  as 
near  as  possible  to  a  life  perfectly  divine.  Christ  set  up 
no  pillars  of  Hercules,  beyond  which  men  must  not  sail 
the  sea  in  quest  of  truth.  He  says,  "I  have  many 
things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now. 


IN    ClIltlSTI  ANI'l'V.  ISl. 

.  .  .  (ircalcr  wmKs  lliaii  llicsc  shall  y<'  <lt>-"  Cliris- 
tiiJiiily  l:»ys  no  rude  liaiul  on  the  sacrcti  pcciiliaiit y  *>!" 
iiulividiial  li^ciiiiis  ami  cliaraciiM-.  IJul  ilu'rc  is  no  Cliris- 
tian  st'cl  wliicli  does  not  frjlcr  a  man.  II  would  make 
all  men  lliink  aliko,  or  smother  their  conviction  in 
sil(MU'0.  Were  all  men  (.Quakers  or  Cat  holies,  Uni- 
tarians or  Baptists,  tlien^  would  he  nuieh  less  diversity 
of  thonj^ht,  character,  and  life;  less  of  truth  active;  iui 
till'  world  than  now.  Hut  Christianity  ^nves  us  tlio 
lar<i;est,  liix'rty  of  the  sons  ol"  (Jod,  and  were  all  men 
Christians  alter  the  fashion  of  Jesus,  this  variety  would 
be  a  thousand  times  <i;r(>ater  than  now;  tor  Christianity 
is  not  ;i  system  of  dotrtrincs,  l)nt  rather  :i  method  of  at- 
taining oneness  with  Cun\.  It  demands,  therefore,  a 
good  lile  of  piety  within,  of  purity  without,  and  ii^ives 
the  promise  that  whoso  does  (Jod's  will,  shall  know  of 
(•od's  doctrine. 

In  an  age  of  corruption,  as  all  ages  are,  .Icsus  stood 
and  looketl  up  to  (Jod.  There  was  nothing  between 
him  and  the  Father  of  all  ;  no  old  world,  Ix;  it  of  Mosch 
or  Msaias,  of  a  living  Ilabbi  or  Sanhedrim  of  Uabbis; 
no  sin  or  perverseness  of  the  linit<'  will.  As  the  result 
of  this  virgin  purity  of  soul  and  perlect  obedience,  tluv 
light  of  (Jod  shone  down  into  the  very  deejjs  of  his 
soul,  bringing  all  of  the  (iodhead  which  llesh  can 
receive,  lie  would  have  us  do  the  same  ;  worship  with 
nothing  between  us  and  (Jod;  act,  think,  fc(>l,  live,  in 
perfect  obedience  to  Ilim;  and  we  never  are  Christians 
as  he  was  the:  Chrisf,  until  we  worship,  as  Jesus  did, 
Avith  no  mediator,  with  nothing  b(.'tween  us  and  tluv 
h'ather  of  all.  lie  felt  that  ( Jod's  word  was  in  him;, 
that  he  was  one  with  (Jod.  \\r  told  what  Ik;  saw  — 
the  Truth  ;  he  lived  what  he  felt  — a  lite  of  liove.  The 
truth  he  brought  to  light  must  have  been  always  the. 

16 


182  THE   TRANSIENT   AND    PERMANENT 

same  before  the  eyes  of  all-seeing  God,  nineteen  cen- 
turies before  Christ,  or  nineteen  centuries  after  him.  A 
life  supported  by  the  principle  and  quickened  by  the 
sentiment  of  religion,  if  true  to  both,  is  always  the 
same  thing  in  Nazareth  or  New  England.  Now  that 
divine  man  received  these  truths  from  God;  was  illu- 
mined more  clearly  by  "  the  light  that  lightencth  every 
man  ;"  combined  or  involved  all  the  truths  of  Religion 
and  Morality  in  his  doctrine,  and  made  them  manifest 
in  his  life.  Then  his  words  and  example  passed  into 
the  world,  and  can  no  more  perish  than  the  stars  be 
wiped  out  of  the  sky.  The  truths  he  taught;  his  doc- 
trines respecting  man  and  God ;  the  relation  between 
man  and  man,  and  man  and  God,  with  the  duties  that 
grow  out  of  that  relation,  are  always  the  same,  and  can 
never  change  till  man  ceases  to  be  man,  and  creation 
vanishes  into  nothing.  No ;  forms  and  opinions  change 
and  perish ;  but  the  Word  of  God  cannot  fail.  The 
form  Religion  takes,  the  doctrines  wherewith  she  is 
girded,  can  never  be  the  same  in  any  two  centuries  or 
two  men;  for  since  the  sum  of  religious  doctrines  is 
both  the  result  and  the  measure  of  a  man's  total  growth 
in  wisdom,  virtue,  and  piety,  and  since  men  will  always 
differ  in  these  respects,  so  religious  doctrines  and  forms 
will  always  differ,  always  be  transient,  as  Christianity 
goes  forth  and  scatters  the  seed  she  bears  in  her  hand. 
But  the  Chrislianitij  holy  men  feel  in  the  heart  —  the 
Christ  that  is  born  within  us,  is  always  the  same  thing 
to  each  soul  that  feels  it.  This  differs  only  in  degree 
and  not  in  kind,  from  age  to  age  and  man  to  man ; 
there  is  something  in  Christianity  which  no  sect  from 
the  "  Ebionites  "  to  the  "  hitter  day  saints  "  ever  entirely 
overlooked.  This  is  that  common  Christianity,  which 
burns  in  the  hearts  of  pious  men. 


IN    CHRISTIANITY.  183 

• 

Real  Christianity  gives  men  new  life.  It  is  the 
growth  and  perfect  action  of  the  Holy  Spirit  God  puts 
into  the  sons  of  men.  It  makes  us  outgrow  any  form 
or  any  system  of  doctrines  we  have  devieed,  and  ap- 
proach still  closer  to  the  truth.  It  would  lead  us  to 
take  what  help  we  can  find.  It  would  make  the  Bible 
our  servant,  not  our  master.  It  would  teach  us  to  profit 
by  the  wisdom  and  piety  of  David  and  Solomon  ;  but 
not  to  sin  their  sins,  nor  bow  to  their  idols.  It  would 
make  us  revere  the  holy  words  spoken  by  "godly  men 
of  old,"  but  revere  still  more  the  word  of  God  spoken 
through  Conscience,  Reason,  and  Faith,  as  the  -holiest 
of  all.  It  would  not  make  Christ  the  despot  of  the 
soul,  but  the  brother  of  all  men.  It  would  not  tell  us, 
that  even  he  had  exhausted  the  fulness  of  God,  so  that 
He  could  create  none  greater  ;  for  with  Him  "  all  things 
are  possible,"  and  neither  Old  Testament  or  New  Tes- 
tament ever  hints  that  creation  exhausts  the  creator. 
Still  less  would  it  tell  us,  the  wisdom,  the  piety,  the 
love,  the  manly  excellence  of  Jesus,  was  the  result  of 
miraculous  agency  alone,  but,  that  it  was^won,  like  the 
excellence  of  humbler  men,  by  faithful  obedience  to 
Him  who  gave  his  Son  such  ample  heritage.  It  would 
point  to  him  as  our  brother,  who  went  before,  like  the 
good  shepherd,  to  charm  us  with  the  music  of  his  words, 
and  with  the  beauty  of  his  life  to  tempt  us  up  the  steeps 
of  mortal  toil,  within  the  gate  of  Heaven.  It  would 
have  us  make  the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  and  enter 
more  fittingly  the  kingdom  on  high.  It  would  lead  us 
to  form  Christ  in  the  heart,  on  which  Paul  laid  such 
stress,  and  work  out  our  salvation  by  this.  For  it  is  not 
so  much  by  the  Christ  who  lived  so  blameless  and  beau- 
tiful eighteen  centuries  ago,  that  we  are  saved  directly, 
but  by  the  Christ  we  form  in  our  hearts  and  live  out  in 


184  THE   TRANSIENT   AND   PERMANENT 

our  daily  life,  that  we  save  ourselves,  God  working  with 
us,  both  to  will  and  to  do. 

Compare  the  simpleness  of  Christianity,  as  Christ  sets 
it  forth  on  the  Mount,  with  what  is  sometimes  taught 
and  accepted  in  that  honored  name  ;  and  what  a  differ- 
ence. One  is  of  God  ;  one  is  of  man.  There  is  some- 
thing in  Christianity  which  sects  have  not  reached; 
something  that  will  not  be  won,  we  fear,  by  theological 
battles,  or  the  quarrels  of  pious  men  ;  still  we  may 
rejoice  that  Christ  is  preached  in  any  way.  The  Chris- 
tianity of  sects,  of  the  pulpit,  of  society,  is  ephemeral 
—  a  transitory  fly.  It  will  pass  off  and  be  forgot. 
Some  new  form  will  take  its  place,  suited  to  the  aspect 
of  the  changing  times.  Each  will  represent  something 
of  truth ;  but  no  one  the  whole.  It  seems  the  whole 
race  of  man  is  needed  to  do  justice  to  the  whole  of 
truth,  as  "  the  whole  church,  to  preach  the  whole  gospel." 
Truth  is  intrusted  for  the  time  to  a  perishable  Ark  of 
human  contrivance.  Though  often  shipwrecked,  she 
always  comes  safe  to  land,  and  is  not  changed  by  her 
mishap.  That  pure  ideal  Religion  which  Jesus  saw  on 
the  mount  of  his  vision,  and  lived  out  in  the  lowly  life 
of  a  Galilean  peasant;  which  transforms  his  cross  into 
an  emblem  of  all  that  is  holiest  on  earth  ;  which  makes 
sacred  the  ground  ho  trod,  and  is  dearest  to  the  best  of 
men,  most  true  to  wiiat  is  truest  in  them,  cannot  pass 
away.  Let  men  improve  never  so  far  in  civilization,  or 
soar  never  so  high  on  the  wings  of  Religion  and  Love, 
they  can  never  outgo  the  flight  of  Truth  and  Chris- 
tianity. It  will  always  be  above  them.  It  is  as  if  we 
were  to  fly  towards  a  Star,  which  becomes  larger  and 
more  bright  the  nearer  we  approach,  till  we  enter  and 
are  absorbed  in  its  glory. 

If  we  look  carelessly  on  the  ages  that  have  gone  by. 


IN    CHRISTIANITY.  185 

or  only  on  the  surfaces  of  things  as  they  come  up  be- 
fore us,  there  is  reason  to  fear ;  for  we  confound  the 
truth  of  God  with  the  word  of  man.  So  at  a  distance 
the  cloud  and  the  mountain  seem  the  same*  When  the 
drift  changes  with  the  passing  wind,  an  unpractised  eye 
might  fancy  the  mountain  itself  was  gone.  But  the 
mountain  stands  to  catch  the  clouds,  to  win  the  blessing 
they  bear,  and  send  it  down  to  moisten  the  fainting 
violet,  to  form  streams  which  gladden  valley  and 
meadow,  and  sweep  on  at  last  to  the  sea  in  deep 
channels,  laden  with  fleets. '  Thus  the  forms  of  the 
church,  the  creeds  of  the  sects,  the  conflicting  opinions 
of  teachers,  float  round  the  sides  of  the  Christian 
mount,  and  swell  and  toss,  and  rise  and  fall,  and  dart 
their  lightning,  and  roll  their  thunder,  but  they  neither 
make  nor  mar  the  mount  itself.  Its  lofty  summit  far 
transcends  the  tumult;  knows  nothing  of  the  storm 
which  roars  below ;  but  burns  with  rosy  light  at  even- 
ing and  at  morn ;  gleams  in  the  splendors  of  the  mid- 
day sun  ;  sees  his  light  when  the  long  shadows  creep 
over  plain  and  moorland,  and  all  night  long  has  its 
head  in  the  heavens,  and  is  visited  by  troops  of  stars 
which  never  set,  nor  veil  their  face  to  ought  so  pure  and 
high. 

Let  then  the  Transient  pass,  fleet  as  it  will,  and  may 
God  send  us  some  new  manifestation  of  the  Christian 
faith,  that  shall  stir  men's  hearts  as  they  were  never 
stirred;  some  new  Word,  which  shall  teach  us  what 
we  are,  and  renew  us  all  in  the  image  of  God ;  some 
better  life,  that  shall  fulfil  the  Hebrew  prophecy,  and 
pour  out  the  spirit  of  God  on  young  men  and  maidens, 
and  old  men  and  children ;  which  shall  realize  the 
Word  of  Christ,  and  give  us  the  comforter,  who  shall 

16* 


186  THE   TRANSIENT   AND    PERMANENT 

reveal  all  needed  things.  There  are  Simeons  enough 
in  the  cottages  and  Churches  of  New  England,  plain 
"men  and  pious  women,  who  wait  for  the  Consolation, 
and  would  die  in  gladness,  if  their  expiring  breath  could 
stir  quicker  the  wings  that  bear  him  on.  There  are 
men  enough,  sick  and  "  bowed  down,  in.  nowise  able  to 
lift  up  themselves,"  who  would  be  healed  could  they 
kiss  the  hand  of  their  Saviour,  or  touch  but  the  hem  of 
his  garment;  men  who  look  up  and  are  not  fed, because 
they  ask  bread  from  heaven  and  water  from  the  rock, 
not  traditions  or  fancies,  Jewish  or  heathen,  or  new  or 
•old  ;  men  enough  who,  with  throbbing  hearts,  pray  for 
the  spirit  of  healing  to  come  upon  the  waters,  which 
other  than  angels  have  long  kept  in  trouble ;  men 
enough  who  have  lain  long  time  sick  of  theology,  noth- 
ing bettered  by  many  physicians,  and  are  now  dead,  too 
dead  to  bury  their  dead,  who  would  come  out  of  their 
graves  at  the  glad  tidings.  God  send  us  a  real  religious 
life,  which  shall  pluck  blindness  out  of  the  heart,  and 
make  us  better  fathers,  mothers,  and  children ;  a  re- 
ligious life,  that  shall  go  with  us  where  we  go,  and 
make  every  home  the  house  of  God,  every  act  accept- 
.able  as  a  prayer.  We  would  work  for  this,  and  pray 
for  it,  though  we  wept  tears  of  blood  while  we  prayed. 

Such,  then,  is  the  Transient,  and  such  the  Perma- 
nent in  Christianity.  What  is  of  absolute  value  never 
changes ;  we  may  cling  round  it  and  grow  to  it  forever. 
No  one  can  say  his  notions  shall  stand.  But  we  may 
all  say,  the  Truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  shall  never  pass 
away.  Yet  there  are  always  some  even  religious  men, 
who  do  not  see  the  Permanent  element,  so  they  rely  on 
the  fleeting;  and,  what  is  also  an  evil,  condemn  others 
for  not  doing  the  same.     They  mistake  a  defence  of  the 


IN    CHRISTIANITY.  187 

Truth  for  an  attack  upon  the  Holy  of  Holies ;  the  re- 
moval of  a  theological  error  for  the  destruction  of  all 
religion.  Already  men  of  the  same  sect  eye  one  another 
with  suspicion,  and  lowering  brows  thrft  indicate  a 
storm,  and,  like  children  who  have  fallen  out  in  their 
play,  call  hard  names.  Now,  as  always,  there  is  a  col- 
lision between  these  two  elements.  The  question  puts 
itself  to  each  man,  "  Will  you  cling  to  what  is  perish- 
ing, or  embrace  what  is  eternal  ?  "  This  question  each 
must  answer  for  himself. 

My  friends,  if  you  receive  the  notions  about  Chris- 
tianity, which  chance  to  be  current  in  your  sect  or 
church,  solely  because  they  are  current,  and  thus  accept 
the  commandment  of  men  instead  of  God's  truth  — 
there  will  always  be  enough  to  commend  you  for  sound- 
ness of  judgment,  prudence,  and  good  sense;  enough 
to  call  you  Christian  for  that  reason.  But  if  this  is  all 
you  rely  upon,  alas  for  you.  The  ground  will  shake 
under  your  feet  if  you  attempt  to  walk  uprightly  and 
like  men.  You  will  be  afraid  of  every  new  opinion, 
lest  it  shake  down  your  church ;  you  will  fear  "  lest  if  a 
fox  go  up,  he  will  break  down  your  stone  wall."  The 
smallest  contradiction  in  the  New  Testament  or  Old 
Testament ;  the  least  disagreement  between  the  Law 
and  the  Gospel ;  any  mistake  of  the  Apostles,  will 
weaken  your  faith.  It  shall  be  with  you  "  as  when  a 
hungry  man  dreameth,  and  behold,  he  eateth  ;  but  he 
awaketh,  and  his  soul  is  empty." 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  take  the  true  Word  of  God, 
and  live  out  this,  nothing  shall  harm  you.  Men  may 
mock,  but  their  mouthfuls  of  wind  shall  be  blown  back 
upon  their  own  face.  If  the  master  of  the  house  were 
called  Beelzebub,  it  matters  little  what  name  is  given  to 
the  household.     The  name  Christian,  given  in  mockery, 


188  THE    TRANSIENT    AND    PERMANENT 

will  last  till  the  world  go  down.  He  that  loves  God 
and  man,  and  lives  in  accordance  with  that  love,  needs 
not  fear  what  man  can  do  to  him.  His  Religion  comes 
to  him  in  his  hour  of  sadness,  it  lays  its  hand  on  him 
when  he  has  fallen  among  thieves,  and  raises  him  up, 
heals,  and  comforts  him.  If  he  is  crucified,  he  shall 
rise  again. 


My  friends,  you  this  day  receive,  with  the  usual  for- 
malities, the  man  you  have  chosen  to  speak  to  you  on 
the  highest  of  all  themes,  —  what  concerns  your  life  on 
earth ;  your  life  in  heaven.  It  is  a  work  for  which  no 
talents,  no  prayerful  diligence,  no  piety,  is  too  great ;  an 
office,  that  would  dignify  angels,  if  worthily  filled.  If 
the  eyes  of  this  man  be  holden,  that  he  cannot  discern 
between  the  perishing  and  the  true,  you  will  hold  him 
guiltless  of  all  sin  in  this ;  but  look  for  light  where  it 
can  be  had ;  for  his  office  will  then  be  of  no  use  to  you. 
But  if  he  sees  the  truth,  and  is  scared  by  worldly  mo- 
tives, and  ivill  not  tell  it,  alas  for  him  !  If  the  watch- 
man see  the  foe  coming  and  blow  not  the  trumpet,  the 
blood  of  the  innocent  is  on  him. 

Your  own  conduct  and  character,  the  treatment  you 
offer  this  young  man,  will  in  some  measure  influence 
him.  The  hearer  afiects  the  speaker.  There  were  some 
places  where  even  Jesus  "  did  not  many  mighty  works, 
because  of  their  unbelief."  Worldly  motives  —  not 
seeming  such  —  sometimes  deter  good  men  from  their 
duty.  GclJ  and  Ease  have,  before  now,  enervated 
noble  minds.  Daily  contact  with  men  of  low  aims 
takes  down  the  ideal  of  life,  which  a  bright  spirit  casts 
out  of  itself.  Terror  has  sometimes  palsied  tongues 
that,  before,  w"ere  eloquent  as  the  voice  of  Persuasion. 
But  thereby  Truth  is  not    holden.     She   speaks  in  a 


IN   CHRISTIANITY.  189 

thousand  tongues,  and  with  a  pen  of  iron  graves  her 
sentence  on  the  rock  forever.  You  may  prevent  the 
freedom  of  speech  in  this  pulpit  if  you  will.  You  may 
hire  you  servants  to  preach  as  you  bid;  io  spare  your 
vices  and  flatter  your  follies  ;  to  prophesy  smooth 
things,  and  say,  It  is  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace. 
Yet  in  so  doing  you  weaken  and  enthrall  yourselves. 
And  alas  for  that  man  who  consents  to  think  one  thing 
in  his  closet,  and  preach  another  in  his  pulpit.  God 
shall  judge  him  in  his  mercy;  not  man  in  his  wrath. 
But  over  his  study  and  over  his  pulpit  might  be  writ  — 
Emptiness;  on  his  canonical  robes,  on  his  forehead  and 
right  hand  —  Deceit,  Deceit. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  you  may  encourage  your 
brother  to  tell  you  the  truth.  Your  affection  will  then 
be  precious  to  him  ;  your  prayers  of  great  price.  -Every 
evidence  of  your  sympathy  will  go  to  baptize  him  anew 
to  Holiness  and  Truth.  You  will  then  have  his  best 
words,  his  brightest  thoughts,  and  his  most  hearty 
prayers.  He  may  grow  old  in  your  service,  blessing 
and  blest.     He  will  have 

"  The  sweetest,  best  of  consolation, 
The  thought,  that  he  has  given, 
To  serve  the  cause  of  Heaven, 
The  freshness  of  his  early  inspiration." 

Choose  as  you  will  choose ;  but  weal  or  woe  depends 
upon  your  choice. 


VII. 

THE   PHARISEES* 


If  we  may  trust  the  statement  of  grave  philosophers, 
who  have  devoted  their  lives  to  Science,  and  given 
proofs  of  what  they  affirm,  which  are  manifest  to  the 
senses,  as  well  as  evident  to  the  understanding,  there 
were  once,  in  very  distant  ages,  classes  of  monsters  on 
the  earth,  which  differed,  in  many  respects,  from  any 
animals  now  on  its  surface.  They  find  the  bones  of 
these  animals,  "  under  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous 
world,"  or  imbedded  in  masses  of  stone,  which  have 
since  formed  over  them.  They  discover  the  footprints, 
also,  of  these  monstrous  creatures,  in  what  was  once 
soft  clay,  but  has  since  become  hard  stone,  and  so 
has  preserved  these  traces  for  many  a  thousand  years. 
These  creatures  gradually  became  scarce,  and  at  last 
disappeared  entirely  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  while 
nobler  races  grew  up  and  took  their  place.  The  relics 
of  these  monsters  are  gathered  together  by  the  curious. 
They  excite  the  wonder  of  old  men  and  little  girls,  of 
the  sage  and  the  clown. 

Now  there  was  an  analogous  class  of  moral  monsters 

*  From  the  Dial  for  July,  1841. 


THE    PHARISEES.  191 

in  old  time.  They  began  quite  early,  though  no  one 
knows  who  was  the  first  of  the  race.  They  have  left 
their  footprints  all  over  the  civilized  globe ;  in  the 
mould  of  institutions,  laws,  politics,  ami  religions, 
which  were  once  pliant,  but  have  since  become  petrified 
in  the  ages,  so  that  they  seem  likely  to  preserve  these 
marks  for  many  centuries  to  come.  The  relics  of  these 
moral  monsters  are  preserved  for  our  times  in  some  of 
the  histories  and  institutions  of  past  ages.  But  they 
excite  no  astonishment,  when  discovered,  because,  while 
the  sauri  of  gigantic  size,  the  mammoth,  and  the  masto- 
don, are  quite  extinct,  the  last  of  the  Pharisees  has  not 
yet  been  seen,  but  his  race  is  vigorous  and  flourishing 
now  as  of  old  time.  Specimens  of  this  monster  are  by 
no  means  rare.  They  are  found  living  in  all  countries, 
and  in  every  walk  of  life.  We  do  not  search  for  them 
in  the  halls  of  a  museum,  or  the  cabinets  of  the  curious, 
but  every  man  has  seen  a  Pharisee  going  at  large  on 
the  earth.  The  race,  it  seems,  began  early.  The  Phari- 
sees are  of  ancient  blood ;  some  tracing  their  genealogy 
to  the  great  Father  of  Lies  himself.  However  this 
may  be,  it  is  certain,  we  find  them  well  known  in 
very  ancient  times.  Moses  encountered  them  in  Egypt. 
They  counterfeited  his  wonders,  as  the  legend  re- 
lates, and  "  did  so  with  their  enchantments."  They 
followed  him  into  the  desert,  and  their  gold  thrown 
into  the  fire,  by  the  merest  accident  came  out  in 
the  shape  of  an  idol.  Jealous  of  the  honor  of  Moses, 
they  begged  him  to  silence  Eldad  and  Medad,  on  whom 
the  spirit  of  the  Lord  rested,  saying,  "  Lord  Moses  re- 
buke them."  They  troubled  the  Messiah  in  a  later  day; 
they  tempted  him  with  a  penny;  sought  to  entangle 
him  in  his  talk;  strove  to  catch  him,  feigning  themselves 
just  men.     They  took  counsel  to  slay  him  soon  as  they 


192  THE   PHARISEES. 

found  cunning  of  no  avail.  If  one  was  touched  to  the 
heart  by  true  words  —  which,  though  rare,  once  hap- 
pened,—  he  came  by  night  to  that  great  prophet  of  God, 
through  fear  of  his  fellow  Pharisees.  They  could  boast, 
that  no  one  of  their  number  had  ever  believed  on  the 
Saviour  of  the  nations,  —  because  his  doctrine  was  a 
new  thing.  If  a  blind  man  was  healed,  they  put  him 
out  of  the  synagogue,  because  his  eyes  were  opened, 
and  as  he  confessed  by  the  new  Teacher.  They  bribed 
one  of  his  avaricious  followers  to  betray  him  with  a 
kiss,  and  at  last  put  to  death  the  noblest  of  all  the  Sons 
of  God,  who  had  but  just  opened  the  burden  of  his 
mission.  Yet  they  took  care,  —  those  precious  philan- 
thropists, —  not  to  defile  themselves  by  entering  the 
judgment  hall,  with  a  pagan.  When  that  spirit  rose 
again,  they  hired  the  guard  to  tell  a  lie,  and  say,  "  His 
disciples  came  by  night,  and  stole  the  body,  while  we 
slept." 

This  race  of  men  troubled  Moses  ;  stoned  the  proph- 
ets ;  crucified  the  Saviour,  and  persecuted  the  apos- 
tles. They  entered  the  Christian  Church  soon  as  it  be- 
came popular  and  fashionable.  Then  they  bound  the 
yoke  of  Jewish  tradition  on  true  men's  necks,  and 
burned  with  fire,  and  blasted  with  anathemas  such  as 
shook  it  off",  walking  free  and  upright,' like  men.  The 
same  race  is  alive,  and  by  no  means  extinct,  or  likely 
soon  to  be  so. 

It  requires  but  few  words  to  tell  what  makes  up  the 
sum  of  the  Pharisee.  He  is  at  the  bottom  a  man  like 
other  men  ;  made  for  whatever  is  high  and  divine.  God 
has  not  curtailed  him  of  a  man's  birthright.  He  has  in 
him  the  elements  of  a  Moses  or  a  Messiah.  But  his 
aim  is  to  seem  good  and  excellent;  not  to  be  good  and 
excellent.     He  wishes,  therefore,  to   have  all  of  good- 


THE    PHARISEES.  193 ' 

ness  and  religion,  except  goodness  and  religion  itself. 
Doubtless,  he  would  accept  these  also,  were  they  to  be 
had  for  the  asking,  and  cost  nothing  to  keep,  but  he 
will  not  pay  the  price.  So  he  would  make  a  covenant 
with  God  and  the  Devil,  with  Righteousness  and  Sin, 
and  keep  on  good  terms  with  both.  He  would  unite 
the  two  worlds  of  Salvation  and  Iniquity,  having  the- 
appearance  of  the  one,  and  the  reality  of  the  other.  He- 
would  work  in  deceit  and  wickedness,  and  yet  appear 
to  men  with  clean  hands.  He  will  pray  in  one  direc- 
tion, and  yet  live  in  just  the  opposite  way,  and  thus 
attempt,  as  it  were,  to  blind  the  eyes,  and  cheat  the  jus- 
tice of  all-knowing  God.  He  may  be  defined,  in  one 
sentence,  as  the  circumstances  of  a  good  man,  after  the  \ 
good  man  has  left  them.  Such  is  the  sum  of  the  Phari- 
see in  all  ages  and  nations,  variously  modified  by  the 
customs  and  climate  of  the  place  he  happens  to  dwell 
in,  just  as  the  rabbit  is  white  in  winter,  and  brown  in 
summer,  but  is  still  the  same  rabbit,  its  complexion  only 
altered  to  suit  the  color  of  the  ground. 

The  Jewish  Pharisees  began  with  an  honest  man, 
who  has  given  name  to  the  class,  as  some  say.  He 
was  moral  and  religious ;  a  lover  of  man  and  God.  He 
saw  through  the  follies  of  his  time,  and  rose  above  them. 
He  felt  the  evils  that  oppress  poor  mortal  man,  and  • 
sought  to  remove  them.  But  it  often  happens  that  a 
form  is  held  up,  after  its  spirit  has  departed,  and  a  name- 
survives,  while  the  reality  which  bore  this  name  is  gone 
forever.  Just  as  they  keep  at  Vienna  the  crowm  and' 
sword  of  a  giant  king,  though  for  some  centuries  no 
head  has  been  found  large  enough  to  wear  the  crown,  no 
hand  of  strength  to  wield  the  sword,  and  their  present  [ 
ow^ner  is  both  imbecile  and  diminutive.  So  it  was 
in  this  case.     The  subsequent  races  of  Pharisees  cher.- 

17 


194  THE   PHARISEES. 

ished  the  form,  after  the  spu-it  had  left  it,  clinging  all  the 
closer  because  they  knew  there  was  nothing  in  it,  and 
feared,  if  they  relaxed  their  hold,  it  would  collapse 
through  its  emptiness,  or  blow  away  and  be  lost,  leav- 
ing them  to  the  justice  of  God  and  the  vengeance  of 
mCn  they  had  mocked  at  and  insulted.  In  Christ's 
time,  the  Pharisee  professed  to  reverence  the  law  of 
Moses,  but  contrived  to  escape  its  excellent  spirit.  He 
loved  the  Letter,  but  he  shunned  the  Law.  He  could 
pay  tithes  of  his  mint,  a.nise,  and  cumin,  which  the 
law  of  Moses  did  not  ask  for,  and  omit  mercy,  justice, 
.  and  truth,  which  both  that  and  the  law  of  God  de- 
\  manded.  He  could  not  kindle  a  fire,  nor  pluck  an  ear 
of  corn  on  the  Sabbath,  though  so  cold  and  hungry, 
that  he  thought  of  nothing  but  his  pains,  and  looked 
for  the  day  to  end.  He  could  not  eat  bread  without 
going  through  the  ceremony  of  lustration.  He  could 
pray  long  and  loud,  where  he  was  sure  to  be  heard,  at 
the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  give  alms  in  the  public 
places,  to  gain  the  name  of  devout,  charitable,  or  mu- 
V  nificent,  while  he  devoured  widows'  houses  or  the  in- 
heritance of  orphans  in  private,  and  his  inward  part 
was  full  of  ravening  and  wickedness. 

There  are  two  things,  which  pass  for  religion  in  two 
different  places.  The  first  is,  the  love  of  what  is  Right, 
Good,  and  Lovely ;  the  love  of  man,  the  love  of  God. 
This  is  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament,  of  Jesus 
Christ;  it  leads  to  a  divine  life,  and  passes  for  religion 
before  the  pure  eyes  of  that  Father  of  all,  who  made 
us,. and  the  stars  over  our  heads.  The  other  is  a  mere 
belief  in  certain  doctrines,  which  may  be  true  or  false; 
a  conij)liance  with  certain  forms,  either  beautiful  or  lu- 
dicrous. It  does  not  demand  a  love  of  what  is  right, 
good,  and  lovely,  a  love  of  man  or  God.     Still  less  does 


THE    PHARISEES.  195 

it  ask  for  a  life  in  conformity  with  such  sentiments. 
This  passes  for  religion  in  the  world,  in  kings'  courts, 
and  in  councils  of  the  Church,  from  the  council  at  Nice 
to  the  synod  at  Dort.  The  first  is  a  vital  religion  ;  a 
religion  of  life.  The  other  is  a  theological  religion  ;  a 
religion  of  death ;  or  rather,  it  is  no  religion  at  all ;  all 
of  religion  but  religion  itself.  It  often  gets  into  the 
place  of  religion,  just  as  the  lizard  may  get  into  the 
place  of  the  lion,  when  he  is  out,  and  no  doubt  sets  up 
to  be  lion  for  the  time,  and  attempts  a  roar.^  The  one 
is  the  religion  of  men,  and  the  best  men  that  have  ever 
lived  in  all  ages  and  countries  ;  the  other  is  the  religion 
of  Pharisees,  and  the  worst  men  in  all  ages  and  in  all 
countries. 

This  race  of  men,  it  has  been  said,  is  not  yet  ex- 
hausted. They  are  as  numerous  as  in  John  the  Bap- 
tist's time,  and  quite  as  troublesome.  Now,  as  then, 
they  prefer  the  praise  of  men  to  the  praise  of  God  ; 
which  means,  they  would  rather  seem  good,  at  small 
cost,  than  take  the  pains  to  be  good.  They  oppose  all 
reforms  as  they  opposed  the  Messiah.  They  traduce 
the  best  of  men,  especially  such  as  are  true  to  Con- 
science, and  live  out  their  thought.  They  persecute 
men  sent  on  God's  high  errand  of  mercy  and  love. 
Which  of  the  prophets  have  they  not  stoned?  They 
build  the  tombs  of  deceased  reformers,  whom  they 
would  calumniate  and  destroy,  were  they  now  living 
and  at  work.  They  can  wear  a  cross  of  gold  on  their 
bosom,  "which  Jews  might  kiss  and  infidels  adore." 
But  had  they  lived  in  the  days  of  Pilate,  they  would 
have  nailed  the  Son  of  God  to  a  cross  of  wood,  and 
now  crucify  him  afresh,  and  put  him  to  an  open  shame. 
These  Pharisees  may  be  found  in  all  ranks  of  life;  in 
the  front  and  the  rear;  among  the  radicals  and  the  con- 


196  THE   PHARISEES. 

servatives,  the  rich  and  the  poor.  Though  the  Phari- 
sees are  the  same  in  nature,  differing  only  superficially, 
they  may  yet  be  conveniently  divided  into  several 
classes,  following  some  prominent  features. 

The  Pharisee  of  the  Fireside.  He  is  the  man,  who 
at  home  professes  to  do  all  for  the  comfort  and  con- 
venience of  his  family,  his  wife,  his  children,, his  friends; 
yet  at  the  same  time  does  all  for  his  own  comfort  and 
convenience.  He  hired  his  servants,  only  to  keep  them 
from  the  almshouse.  He  works  them  hard,  lest  they 
have  too  much  spare  time,  and  grow  indolent.  He 
provides  penuriously  for  them,  lest  they  contract  extrav- 
agant habits.  Whatever  gratification  he  gives  himself, 
he  does  entirely  for  others.  Docs  he  go  to  a  neighbor- 
ing place  to  do  some  important  errands  for  himself,  and 
a  trifle  for  his  friend,  the  journey  was  undertaken  solely 
on  his  friend's  account.  Is  he  a  husband,  he  is  always 
talking  of  the  sacrifice  he  makes  for  his  wife,  who  yet 
never  knows  when  it  is  made,  and  if  he  had  love,  there 
would  be  no  sacrifice.  Is  he  a  father,  he  tells  his  chil- 
dren of  his  self-denial  for  their  sake,  while  they  find  the 
self-denial  is  all  on  their  side,  and  if  he  loved  them  self- 
denial  would  be  a  pleasure.  He  speaks  of  his  great 
affection  for  tliem,  which,  if  he  felt,  it  would  show  itself, 
and  never  need  be  spoken  of  He  tells  of  the  heavy 
burdens  borne  for  their  sake,  while,  if  they  weri>  thus 
borne,  they  would  not  be  accounted  burdens,  nor  felt  as 
heavy.  But  this  kind  of  Pharisee,  though  more  com- 
mon than  we  sometimes  fancy,  is  yet  the  rarest  s]:)ecies. 
Most  men  drop  the  cloak  of  hypocrisy,  when  they  enter 
their  home,  and  seem  what  they  are.  Of  them,  there- 
fore, no  more  need  be  spoken. 


THE   PHARISEES.  197 

The  Pharisee  of  the  Printing  Press.  The  Pharisee 
of  this  stamp  is  a  sleek  man,  who  edits  a  newspaper. 
His  care  is  never  to  say  a  word  ofFen.sive  to  the  orthodox 
ears  of  his  own^  coterie.  His  aim  is  to  follow  in  the 
wake  of  public  opinion,  and  utter,  from  time  to  time, 
his  oracular  generalities,  so  that,  whether  the  course  be 
prosperous  or  unsuccessful,  he  may  seem  to  have  pre- 
dicted it.  If  he  must  sometimes  speak  of  a  new  meas- 
ure, whose  fate  is  doubtful  with  the  people,  no  one 
knows  whether  he  would  favor  or  reject  it.  So  equally 
do  his  arguments  balance  one  another.  Never  was 
prophecy  more  clearly  inspired  and  impersonal.  He 
cannot  himself  tell  what  his  prediction  meant  until  it  is 
fulfilled.  "  If  Croesus  crosses  the  Halys,  he  shall  destroy 
a  great  empire,"  thunders  the  Pharisee  from  his  editorial 
corner,  but  takes  care  not  to  tell  whether  Persia  or 
Lydia  shall  come  to  the  ground.  Suggest  a  doubt  that 
he  ever  opposed  a  measure,  which  has  since  become 
popular,  he  will  prove  you  the  contrary,  and  his  words 
really  have  that  meaning,  though  none  suspected  it  at 
the  time,  and  he,  least  of  all.  In  his,  as  in  all  predic- 
tions, there  is  a  double  sense.  If  he  would  abuse  a 
man  or  an  institution,  which  is  somewhat  respectable, 
and  against  which  he  has  a  private  grudge,  he  inserts 
most  calumnious  articles  in  the  shape  of  a  "  communi- 
cation," declaring  at  the  same  time  his  "  columns  are 
open  to  all."  He  attacks  an  innocent  man,  soon  as  he 
is  unpopular;  but  gives  him  no  chance  to  reply,  though 
in  never  so  Christian  a  spirit.  Let  a  distinguished  man 
censure  one  comparatively  unknown,  he  would  be  very 
glad  to  insert  the  injured  man's  defence,  but  is  prevented 
by  "  a  press  of  political  matter,"  or  "  a  press  of  foreign 
matter,"  till  the  day  of  reply  has  passed.  Let  an  hum- 
ble scholar  send  a  well-written  article  for  his  journal, 

17* 


198  THE  PHARISEES. 

which  does  not  square  with  the  notions  of  the  coterie ; 
it  is  returned  with  insult  added  to  the  wrong,  and  an 
"editorial"    appears    putting   the    public   on  its   guard 
against  such   as   hold  the   obnoxious  opinions,  calling 
them  knaves,  and  fools,  or  what  is  more  taking  with  the 
public  at  this  moment,  when  the  majority  are  so  very 
faithful,  and  religious,  "  infidels  "  and  "  atheists."     The 
aim  of  this  man  is  to  please  his  party,  and  seem  fair. 
Send  him  a  paper,  reflecting  on  the  measures  or  the 
men  of  that  party,  he  tells  you  it  would  do  no  good  to 
insert  it,  though  ably  written.     He   tells   his  wife   the 
story,  adding  that  he  must  have  meat  and  drink,  and 
the  article  would  have  cost  a  "  subscriber."     He  begins 
by  loving  his  party  better  than  mankind;  he  goes  on  by 
loving  their  opinions  more  than  truth,  and  ends  by  lov- 
ing his  own  interest  better  than  that  of  his  party.     He 
might  be  painted  as  a  man  sitting  astride  a  fence,  which 
divided  two  inclosures,  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
pockets.     As  men  come  into  one  or  the  other  inclosure, 
be  bows  obsequiously,  and  smiles;  bowing  lowest  and 
smiling    sweetest   to    the    most   distinguished    person. 
When   the  people  have    chosen    their  place,  he  comes 
down  from  "  that  bad  eminence,"  to  the  side  where  the 
majority  arc  assembled,  and  will  prove  to  your  teeth, 
that   he    had    always    stood   on   that   side,   and   was 
never  on  the  fence,  except  to  reconnoitre  the  enemy's 
•position. 

TiiE  Pjiarisee  of  the  Street.  He  is  the  smooth 
■Bharpcr,  who  cheats  you  in  the  name  of  honor.  He 
wears  a  sanctimonious  face,  and  ])lies  a  smooth  tongue. 
His  words  are  rosemary  and  marjoram  for  sweetness. 
To  hear  him  lament  at  the  sins  practised  in  business, 
you  would   take  him  for  the  most  honest  of  men.     Are 


THE   PHARISEES.  199 

you  to  trade  with  him,  he  expresses  a  great  desire  to 
serve  you ;  talks  much  of  the  subject  9/  honor ;  honor 
between  buyer  and  seller;  honor  among  tradesmen; 
honor  among  thieves.  He  is  full  of  regrets,  that  the 
world  has  become  so  wicked  ;  wonders  that  any  one 
can  find  temptation  to  defraud,  and  belongs  to  a  society 
for  the  suppression  of  shoplifting,  or  some  similar 
offence  he  is  in  no  danger  of  committing,  and  so 

"  Compounds  for  sins  he  is  inclined  to, 
By  damning  those  he  has  no  mind  to." 

Does  this  Pharisee  meet  a  philanthropist,  he  is  full  of 
plans  to  improve  society,  and  knows  of  some  Jittle  evil, 
never  heard  of  before,  which  he  wishes  to  correct  in  a 
distant  part  of  the  land.  Does  he  encounter  a  religious 
man,  he  is  ready  to  build  a  church  if  it  could  be  built 
of  words,  and  grows  eloquent,  talking  of  the  goodness 
of  God  and  the  sin  of  the  world,  and  has  a  plan  for 
evangelizing  the  cannibals  of  Ncav  Zealand,  and  chris- 
tianizing, forsooth,  the  natives  of  China,  for  he  thinks  it 
hard  they  should  "  continue  heathens,  and  so  be  lost." 
Does  he  overtake  a  lady  of  afflnence  and  refinement, 
there  are  no  limits  to  his  respect  for  the  female  sex ;  no 
bounds  to  his  politeness ;  no  pains  too  great  for  him  to 
serve  her.  But  let  him  overtake  a  poor  woman  of  a 
rainy  day,  in  a  lonely  road,  who  really  needs  his  cour- 
tesy, he  will  not  lend  her  his  arm  or  his  umbrella,  for  all 
his  devotion  to  the  female  sex.  He  thinks  teachers  are 
not  sufficiently  paid,  but  teazes  a  needy  young  man  to 
take  his  son  to  school  a  little  under  price,  and  disputes 
the  bill  when  rendered.  He  knows  that  a  young  man 
of  fortune  lives  secretly  in  the  most  flagrant  debauchery 
Our  Pharisee  treats  him  with  all  conceivable  courtesy, 


200  THE   PHARISEES. 

defends  him  from  small  rumors;  but  when  the  iniquity 
is  once  made  public,  he  is  the  very  loudest  in  his  con- 
demnation, and  wonders  any  one  could  excuse  him. 
This  man  will  be  haughty  to  his  equals,  and  arrogant  to 
those  he  deems  below  him.  With  all  his  plans  for 
christianizing  China  and  New  Zealand,  he  takes  no 
pains  to  instruct  and  christianize  his  own  family.  In 
spite  of  his  sorrow  for  the  wickedness  of  the  world,  and 
his  zeal  for  the  suppression  of  vice,  he  can  tell  the  truth 
so  as  to  deceive,  and  utter  a  lie  so  smoothly,  that  none 
suspects  it  to  be  untrue.  Is  he  to  sell  you  an  article,  its 
obvious  faults  are  explained  away,  and  its  secret  ones 
concealed  still  deeper.  Is  he  to  purchase,  he  finds  a 
score  of  defects,  which  he  knows  exist  but  in  his  lying 
words.  When  the  bargain  is  made,  he  tells  his  fellow 
Pharisee  how  adroitly  he  deceived,  and  how  great  are 
his  gains.  This  man  is  fulfilled  of  emptiness.  Yet  he 
is  suffered  to  walk  the  earth,  and  eat  and  drink,  and 
look  upon  the  sun,  all  hollow  as  he  is. 

The  Pharisee  of  Politics.  This,  also,  is  a  numer- 
ous class.  He  makes  great  professions  of  honesty ; 
thinks  the  country  is  like  to  be  ruined  by  want  of  in- 
tegrity in  high  places,  and,  perhaps,  it  is  so.  For  his 
part,  he  thinks  simple  honesty,  the  doing  of  what  one 
knows  to  be  right,  is  better  than  political  experience,  of 
which  he  claims  bat  little;  more  safe  than  the  eagle  eye 
of  statesmanlike  sagacity,  which  sees  events  in  their 
causes,  and  can  apply  the  experience  of  many  centuries 
to  show  the  action  of  a  particular  measure,  a  sagacity 
that  he  cannot  pretend  to.  This  Pharisee  of  Politics, 
when  he  is  out  of  place,  thinks  much  evil  is  likely  to 
befall  us  from  the  office-holders,  enemies  of  the  people ; 
if  he  is  in  place,  from  the  otfice-wanters,  most  pestilent 


THE   PHARISEES.  201 

fellows  I  Just  before  the  election,  this  precious  Phari- 
see is  seized  with  a  great  concern  lest  the  people  be  de- 
ceived, the  dear  people,  whom  he  loves  ''with  such  vast 
affection.  No  distance  is  too  great  for  him  to  travel ; 
no  stormy  night  too  stormy  for  him,  that  he  may  utter 
his  word  in  season.  Yet  all  the  while  he  loves  the  peo- 
ple but  as  the  cat  her  prey,  which  she  charms  with  her 
look  of  demure  innocence,  her  velvet  skin  and  glittering 
eyes,  till  she  has  seized  it  in  her  teeth,  and  then  conde- 
scends to  sport  with  its  tortures,  sharpening  her  appetite, 
and  teazing  it  to  death.  There  is  a  large  body  of  men 
in  all  political  parties, 

A  "  who  sigh  and  groan 

For  public  good,  and  mean  their  own." 

It  has  always  been  so,  and  will  always  continue  so,  till 
men  and  women  become  Christian,  and  then,  as  pagan 
Plato  tells  us,  the  best  and  wisest  men  will  take  high 
offices  cheerfully,  because  they  involve  the  most  irksome 
daties  of  the  citizen.  The  Pharisee  of  Politics  is  all 
things  to  all  men,  (though  in  a  sense  somewhat  differ- 
ent from  the  Apostle,  perhaps,)  that  he  may,  by  any 
means,  gain  some  to  his  side.  Does  he  meet  a  reformer, 
he  has  a  plan  for  improving  and  finishing  off  the  world 
quite  suddenly.  Does  he  fall  in  with  a  conservative, 
our  only  strength  is  to  stand  still.  Is  he  speaking  with 
a  wise  friend  of  the  people,  he  would  give  every  poor 
boy  and  girl  the  best  education  the  State  could  afford, 
making  monopoly  of  wisdom  out  of  the  question. 
Does  he  talk  with  the  selfish  man  of  a  clique,  who  cares 
only  for  that  person,  girded  with  his  belt;  he  thinks 
seven  eighths  of  the  people,  including  all  of  the  working 
class,  must  be  left  in  ignorance  beyond  hope ;  as  if  God 
made  one  man  all    Head,  and   the    other  all   Hands. 


202  THE   PIIAKISEES. 

Does  he  meet  a  Unitarian,  the  Pharisee  signs  no  creed, 
and  always  believed  the  Unity ;  with  a  Calvinist,  he  is 
so  Trinitarian  he  wishes  there  were  four  persons  in  the 
Godhead  to  give  his  faith  a  test  the  more  difficult.  Let 
the  majority  of  voters,  or  a  third  party,  who  can  turn 
the  election,  ask  him  to  pledge  himself  to  a  particular 
measure,  this  lover  of  the  people  is  ready,  their  "  obedi- 
ent servant,"  whether  it  be  to  make  property  out  of 
paper,  or  merchandise  out  of  men.  The  voice  of  his 
electors  is  to  him  not  the  voice  of  God,  which  might  be 
misunderstood,  but  God  himself.  But  when  his  object 
is  reached,  and  the  place  secure,  you  shall  see  the  demon 
of  ambition,  that  possesses  the  man,  come  out  iiito  ac- 
tion. This  man  can  stand  in  the  hall  of  the  nation's 
wisdom,  with  the  Declaration  of  Independence  in  one 
hand,  and  the  Bible,  the  great  charter  of  freedom,  in  the 
other,  and  justify,  —  not  excuse,  palliate,  and  account 
for,  —  but  JUSTIFY,  the  greatest  wrong  man  can  inflict 
on  man,  and  attempt  to  sanction  Slavery,  qvioting 
chapter  and  verse  from  the  New  Testament,  and  do  it 
as  our  fathers  fought,  in  the  name  of  "  God  and  their 
country."  He  can  stand  in  the  centre  of  a  free  land,  his 
mouth  up  to  the  level  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  and 
pour  forth  his  eloquent  lies,  all  freedom  above  the  mark, 
but  all  slavery  below  it.  He  can  cry  out  for  the  dear 
people,  till  they  think  some  man  of  wealth  and  power 
watches  to  destroy  them,  while  he  wants  authority ;  but 
when  he  has  it,  ask  him  to  favor  the  cause  of  Humanity; 
ask  him  to  aid  those  few  hands,  which  would  take  hold 
of  the  poor  man's  son  in  his  cabin,  and  give  him  an 
education  worthy  of  a  man,  a  free  man ;  ask  him  to 
help  those  few  souls  of  great  faith,  who  perfume 
Heaven's  ear  with  tiieir  prayers,  and  consume  their 
own  hearts  on  the  altar,  while  kindling  the  reluctant 


THE   PHAKISEES.  203 

sacrifice  for  other  hearts,  so  slow  to  beat ;  ask  him  to 
aid  the  noblest  interests  of  man,  and  help  bring  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven  here  in  New  England,  —  and 
where  is  he  ?  Why,  the  bubble  of  a  man  has  blown 
away.  If  you  could  cast  his  character  into  a  melting 
pot,  as  chemists  do  their  drugs,  and  apply  suitable  tests 
to  separate  part  from  part,  and  so  analyze  the  man,  you 
would  find  a  little  Wit,  and  less  Wisdom ;  a  thimble- 
full  of  common  sense,  worn  in  the  fore  part  of  the  head, 
and  so  ready  for  use  at  a  moment's  call ;  a  conscience 
made  up  of  maxims  of  expediency  and  worldly  thrift, 
which  conscience  he  wore  on  his  sleeve  to  swear  by 
when  it  might  serve  his  turn.  You  would  find  a  little 
knowledge  of  history,  to  make  use  of  on  the  Fourth  of 
July  and  election  days ;  a  conviction  that  there  was  a 
selfish  principle  in  man,  which  might  be  made  active  ; 
a  large  amount  of  animal  cunning,  selfishness,  and  am- 
bition, all  worn  very  bright  by  constant  use.  Down 
further  still  in  the  crucible  would  be  a  shapeless  lump 
of  faculties  he  had  never  used,  which,  on  examination, 
would  contain  Manliness,  Justice,  Integrity,  Honor, 
Religion,  Love,  and  whatever  else  that  makes  man 
Divine  and  Immortal.  Such  is  the  inventory  of  this 
thing  which  so  many  worship,  and  so  many  would  be. 
Let  it  also  pass  to  its  reward. 

The  Pharisee  of  the  Church.  There  was  a  time 
when  he,  who  called  himself  a  Christian,  took  as  it 
were  the  Prophet's  vow,  and  Toil  and  Danger  dogged 
his  steps;  Poverty  came  like  a  Giant  upon  him,  and 
death  looked  ugly  at  him  through  the  casement  as  he 
sat  down  with  his  wife  and  babes.  Then  to  be  called 
a  Christian,  was  to  be  a  man ;  to  pray  prayers  of  great 
res'olution,  and  to   live   in   the    Kingdom   of  Heaven. 


204  THE   PHARISEES. 

Now  it  means  only  to  be  a  Protestant,  or  a  Catholic; 
to  believe  with  the  Unitarians,  or  the  Calvinists.  We 
have  lost  the  right  names  of  things.  The  Pharisee  of 
the  Church  has  a  religion  for  Sunday,  but  none  for  the 
week.  He  believes  all  the  true  things  and  absurd 
things  ever  taught  by  popular  teachers  of  his  sect.  To 
him  the  Old  Testament  and  the  New  Testament  are 
just  the  same, —  and  the  Apocrypha  he  never  reads, — 
Books  to  be  worshipped  and  sworn  by.  He  believes 
most  entirely  in  the  Law  of  Moses  and  the  Gospel  of 
the  Messiah,  which  annuls  that  Law.  They  are  both 
"  translated  out  of  the  original  tongues,  and  appointed 
to  be  read  in  churches."  Of  course  he  practises  one 
just  as  much  as  the  other.  His  Belief  has  cost  him  so 
much  he  does  nothing  but  believe ;  never  dreams  of 
living  his  belief.  He  has  a  Religion  for  Sunday,  and  a 
face  for  Sunday,  and  Sunday  books,  and  Sunday  talk, 
and  just  as  he  lays  aside  his  Sunday  coat,  so  he  puts 
by  his  talk,  his  books,  his  face,  and  his  Religion.  They 
would  be  profaned  if  used  on  a  weekday.  He  can  sit 
in  his  pew  of  a  Sunday  —  wood  sitting  upon  wood  — 
with  the  demurest  countenance,  and  never  dream  the 
words  of  Isaiah,  Paul,  and  Jesus,  which  are  read  him, 
came  out  of  the  serene  deeps  of  the  soul  that  is  fulfilled 
of  a  divine  life,  and  are  designed  to  reach  such  deeps  in 
other  souls,  and  will  reach  them  if  they  also  live  nobly. 
He  can  call  himself  a  Christian,  and  never  do  any  thing 
to  bless  or  comfort  his  neighlior.  The  poor  pass  and 
never  raise  an  eye  to  that  impenetrable  face.  He  can 
hear  sermons,  and  pay  for  sermons  that  denounce  the 
sin  he  daily  commits,  and  thinks  he  atones  for  the  sin 
by  paying  for  the  sermon.  His  Sunday  prayers  are 
beautiful,  out  of  the  Psalms  and  the  Gospels,  but  his 
weekly  life,  what  has  it  to  do  with  his  prayer?     How 


THE   PHARISEES.  205 

confounded  would  he  be,  if  Heaven  should  take  him  in 
earnest,  and  grant  his  request!      He  w^uld  pray  that 
Gods  name  be  hallowed,  while  his  life  is  blasphemy 
agamst    Him.      He   can   say,  "Thy  kingdom   come," 
when  if  It  should  come,  he  would  wither  up  at  the  si-ht 
of  so  much  majesty.     The  kingdom  of  God  is  in  the 
Hearts  of  men ;  does  he  wish  it  there,  in  his  own  heart' 
He  prays,  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  yet  never  sets  a  foot  for- 
ward to  do  it,  nor  means  to  set  a  foot  forward      His 
only  true  petition  is  for  daily  bread,  and  this  he  utters 
falsely,  for  all  men  are  included  in  the  true  petition,  and 
he  asks  only  for  himself.     When  he  says  «  forgive  us  as 
we  forgive,"  he  imprecates   a   curse   on  himself,  most 
burnmg  and  dreadful;  for  when  did  he  give  or  for-ive  ' 
The  only  "evil"  he  prays  to  be  delivered  from  is  worldly 
trouble.     He  does  not  wish  to  be  saved  from  avarice 
peevishness,  passion,  from  false  lips,  a  wicked  heart,  and 
a  life  mean  and  dastardly.     He  can  send  Bibles  to  the 
Heathen  on  the  deck  of  his  ship,  and  rum,  gunpowder, 
and  cast-iron  muskets  in  the  hold.     The  aim  of  this 
man  is  to  get  the  most  out  of  his  fellow-mortals,  and 
to  do  the  least  for  them,  at  the  same  time  keeping  up 
the  phenomena  of  Goodness  and  Religion.     To  speak 
somewhat  figuratively,  he  would  pursue  a  wicked  call- 
ing in   a  plausible   way,   under   the   very  windows   of 
Heaven    at  intervals  singing  hymns  to  God,  while  he 
deoased  his  image;  contriving  always  to  keep  so  near 
the  walls  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  that  when  the  destroy- 
ing flood  swept  by,  he  might  scramble  in  at  a  window, 
booted  and  spurred  to  ride  over  men,  wearing  his  Sun- 
day face,  with  his  Bible  in  his  hand,  to  put  the  Saviour 
to  the  blush,  and  out-front  the  justice  of  Almighty  God. 
But  let  hmi  pass  also ;  he  has  his  reward.     Sentence  is  ■ 
pronounced    against  all  that  is  false.     The    Publicans 

18 


206  THE   PHARISEES. 

and  the  Harlots  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
that  man. 

The  Pharisee  of  the  Pulpit.  The  Scribes  and 
Pharisees  sat  once  in  Moses'  seat ;  now  they  go  farther 
up  and  sit  in  the  seat  of  the  Messiah.  The  Pharisee 
of  the  Pulpit  is  worse  than  any  other  class,  for  he  has 
the  faults  of  all  the  rest,  and  is  set  in  a  place  where 
even  the  slightest  tarnish  of  human  frailty  is  a  disgi-ace, 
all  the  more  disgraceful  because  contrasted  with  the 
spotless  vestments  of  that  loftiest  Spirit,  that  has  be- 
strode the  ages,  and  stands  still  before  us  as  the  highest 
Ideal  ever  realized  on  the  Earth,  —  the  measure  of  a 
perfect  man.  If  the  Gold  rust,  what  shall  the  Iron  do? 
The  fundamental  sin  of  the  Pharisee  of  the  Pulpit  is 
this.  He  keeps  up  the  Form,  come  what  will  come  of 
the  Substance.  So  he  embraces  the  form  when  the 
substance  is  gone  forever.  He  might  be  represented  in 
painting,  as  a  man,  his  hands  filled  with  husks,  from 
which  the  corn  has  long  ago  been  shelled  off,  carried 
away  and  planted,  and  has  now  grown  up  under  God's 
blessing,  produced  its  thirty,  or  its  hundred-fold,  and 
stands  ripe  for  the  reaper,  waiting  the  sickle,  while  hun- 
gering crowds  come  up  escaping  from  shipwreck,  or 
wanderings  in  the  desert  of  Sin,  and  ask  an  alms,  he 
gives  them  a  husk  —  only  a  husk  ;  nothing  but  a  husk. 
"  The  hungry  flock  look  up  and  are  not  fed,"  while  he 
blasts  with  the  curses  of  his  church  all  such  as  would 
guide  the  needy  to  those  fields,  where  there  is  bread 
enough  and  to  spare.  He  wonders  at  "  the  perverscness 
of  the  age,"  that  will  no  longer  be  fed  with  chaff  and 
husks.  He  has  seen  but  a  single'  pillar  of  God's 
Temple,  and  thinking  that  is  the  whole,  condemns  all 
such  as  take  delight  in  its  beautiful  porches,  its  many 


THE   PHARISEES.  207 

mansions,  and  most  holy  place.  So  the  fly,  who  had 
seen  but  a  nail-head  on  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  con- 
demned the  Swallow  who  flew  along  its  solemn  vault, 
and  told  the  wonders  she  had  seen.  Our  Pharisee  is 
resolved,  God  willing,  or  God  not  Avilling,  to  keep  up 
the  form,  so  he  would  get  into  a  false  position  should 
he  dare  to  think.  His  thought  might  not  agree  with 
the  form,  and  since  he  loves  the  dream  of  his  fathers 
better  than  God's  Truth,  he  forbids  all  progress  in  the 
form.  So  he  begins  by  not  preaching  what  he  believes, 
and  soon  comes  to  preach  what  he  believes  not.  These 
are  the  men  who  boast  they  have  Abraham  to  their 
father,  yet  as  it  has  been  said,  they  come  of  quite 
a  difierent  stock,  which  also  is  Ancient  and  of  irreat  re- 
nown. 

The  Pharisee's  faith  is  in  the  letter,  not  the  spirit. 
Doubt  in  his  presence,  that  the  Book  of  Chronicles  and 
the  Book  of  Kings  are  not  perfectly  inspired  and  infal- 
libly true,  on  those  very  points  where  they  are  exactly 
opposite  ;  doubt  that  the  Infinite  God  inspired  David  to 
denounce  his  enemies,  Peter  to  slay  Ananias,  Paul  to 
predict  events  that  never  came  to  pass,  and  Matthew 
and  Luke,  John  and  Mark,  to  make  historical  state- 
ments, which  can  never  be  reconciled,  and  he  sets  you 
down  as  an  infidel,  though  you  keep  all  the  command- 
ments from  your  youth  up,  lack  nothing,  and  live  as 
John  and  Paul  prayed  they  might  live.  With  him  the 
unpardonable  sin  is  to  doubt  that  ecclesiastical  doctrine 
to  be  true,  which  Reason  revolts  at,  and  Conscience  and 
Faith  spurn  oft^  with  loathing.  With  him  the  Jews  are 
more  than  the  human  race.  The  Bible  is  his  JMaster,  • 
and  not  his  Friend.  He  would  not  that  you  should 
take  its  poems  as  its  authors  took  them  ;  nor  its  narra- 
tives for  what  they  are  worth,  as  you  take  others.     He 


208  THE   PHARISEES. 

will  not  allow  yon  to  accept  the  Life  of  Christianity; 
but  you  must  have  its  letter  also,  of  which  Paul  and 
Jesus  said  not  a  word.  If  you  would  drink  the  water 
of  life,  you  must  take  likewise  the  mud  it  has  been  fil- 
tered through,  and  drink  out  of  an  orthodox  urn.  You 
must  shut  up  Reason,  Conscience,  and  Common  Sense, 
when  you  come  to  those  Books,  which  above  all  others 
came  out  of  this  triple  fountain.  To  those  Books  he 
limits  divine  inspiration,  and  in  his  modesty  has  looked 
so  deep  into  the  counsels  of  God,  that  he  knows  the 
live  coal  of  Inspiration  has  touched  no  lips  but  Jewish. 
No  I  nor  never  shall.  Does  the  Pharisee  do  this  from 
true  reverence  for  the  Word  of  God,  which  was  in  the 
beginning,  which  is  Life,  and  which  lighteth  every  man 
that  cometh  into  the  world?  Let  others  judge.  But 
there  is  a  blindness  of  the  heart,  to  which  the  fabled 
darkness  of  Egypt  was  noonday  light.  That  is  nt)t 
the  worst  scepticism,  which,  with  the  Sadducee,  denies 
both  angel  and  resurrection ;  but  that  which  denies 
man  the  right  to  think,  to  doubt,  to  conclude;  which 
hopes  no  light  save  from  the  ashes  of  the  past,  and 
would  hide  God's  truth  from  the  world  with  the  flap  of 
its  long  robe.  We  come  at  Truth  only  by  faithful 
thought,  reflection,  and  contemplation  when  the  long 
flashes  of  light  come  in  upon  the  soul.  But  Truth 
and  (xod  are  always  on  one  side.  Ignorance  and  a 
blind  and  barren  Faith  favor  only  lies  and  their  great 
patriarch. 

The  Pharisee  of  the  Pulpit  talks  much  of  the  divine 
authority  of  the  Church  and  the  Minister,  as  if  the  one 
was  any  thing  more  than  a  body  of  men  and  women 
met  for  moral  and  religious  improvement,  and  the  other 
any  thing  but  a  single  man  they  had  asked  to  teach 
them,  and  be  an  example  to  the  flock,  and  not  "  Lord 


THE    PHARISEES.  209 

of  God's  heritage."      Had  this  Pharisee  been  born  in 
Turkey,  he  would   have  been  as  zealous  for  the  Ma- 
hometan church,  as  he  now  is  for  the  (fhristian.     It  is 
only  the  accident  of  birtlr  that  has  given  him  the  Bible 
instead  of  the  Koran,  the  Shaster,  the  Vedam,  or  the 
Shu-King.     This  person  has  no  real  faith  in  man,  or  he 
would  not  fear  when  he  essayed  to  walk,  nor  would 
fancy    that   while    every   other    science    went   forward. 
Theology,   the    Queen   of   Science,   should   be   bound 
hand  and  foot,  and  shut  up  in  darkness  without  sun  or 
star;   no  faith  in   Christ,  or   he   would   not   fear   that 
Search  and  Speech  should  put  out  the  light  of  life  ;  no 
faith  in  God,  or  he  would  know  that  His  Truth,  like 
virgin  gold,  comes  brighter  out  of  the  fire  of  thought, 
which    burns    up    only  the    dross.     Yet    this    Pharisee' 
speaks  of  God,  as  if  he  had  known  the  Infinite  from 
His  boyhood;  had  looked  over  his  shoulder  when  he 
laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth ;  had  entered  into  all 
his  counsels,  and  known  to  the  tithing  of  a  hair,  how. 
much  was  given  to  Moses,  how  much  to  Confucius,  and 
how  much  to  Christ,  and   had  seen  it  written  in  the 
book  of  fate,  that  Christianity,  as  it  is  now  understood, 
was  the  loftiest  Religion  man  could  ever  know,  and  all 
the  treasure  of  the  Most  High  was  spent  and  gone,  so 
that  we  had  nothing  more  to  hope  for.     Yet  the  loftiest 
spirits  that  have  ever  lived  have  blessed  the  things  of 
God ;  have  adored  him  in  all  his  works,  in  the  dew-d'^-ops 
and  the  stars ;  have  felt  at  times  his   Spirit  warm  their 
hearts,  and  blessed  him  who  was  all  in  all,  but  bowed 
their  faces  down  before  his  presence,  and  owned  they 
could  not  by  searching  find  him  out  unto  perfection ; 
have  worshipped  and  loved  and  prayed,  but  said  no' 
more  of  the  nature  and  essence  of  God,  for  Thought 
has  its  limits,  though  presumption  it  seems  has  none. 

18* 


210  THE   PHARISEES. 

The  Pharisee  speaks  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  How  he 
dwells  on  his  forbearance,  his  gentleness,  but  how  he 
forgets  that  righteous  indignation  which  spoke  through 
him,  applied  the  naked  point  of  God's  truth  to  Pharisees 
and  Hypocrites,  and  sent  them  back  with  rousing  admo- 
nitions. He  heeds  not  the  all-embracing  Love  that 
dwelt  in  him,  and  wept  at  Sin,  and  worked  with  bloody 
sweat  for  the  oppressed  and  downtrodden.  He  speaks 
of  Paul  and  Peter  as  if  they  were  masters  of  the  Soul, 
and  not  merely  its  teachers  and  friends.  Yet  should 
those  flaming  apostles  start  up  from  the  ground  in  their 
living  holiness,  and  tread  our  streets,  call  things  by  their 
right  names,  and  apply  Christianity  to  life,  as  they  once 
did,  and  now  would  do  were  they  here,  think  you  our 
Pharisee  would  open  his  house,  like  Roman  Cornelius, 
or  Simon  of  Tarsus? 

There  are  two  divisions  of  this  class  of  Pharisees  ; 
those  who  do  not  think,  —  and  they  are  harmless  and 
perhaps  useful  in  their  way,  like  snakes  that  have  no 
venom,  but  catch  worms  and  flies,  —  and  those  ivho  do 
think.  The  latter  think  one  thing  in  their  study,  and 
preach  a  very  difl'crent  thing  in  their  pulpit.  In  the  one 
place  they  are  free  as  water,  ready  to  turn  any  way;  in 
the  other,  conservative  as  ice.  They  fear  philosophy 
should  disturb  the  church  as  she  lies  bedridden  at 
home,  so  they  would  throw  the  cobwebs  of  Authority 
and  Tradition  over  the  wings  of  Truth,  not  suffering 
her  with  strong  pinions  to  fly  in  the  midst  of  Heaven, 
and  communicate  between  man  and  God.  They  think 
"you  must  use  a  little  deceit  in  the  world,"  and  so  use 
not  a  little.  These  men  speak  in  public  of  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Bible,  as  if  it  were  all  inspired  with  equal 
infallibility;  but  what  do  they  think  at  home?  In  his 
study,  the  Testament  is  a  collection  of  legendary  tales ; 


THE    PHARISEES.  211 

in  the  pulpit  it  is  the  everlasting  Gospel ;  if  any  man 
shall  add  to  it,  the  seven  last  plagues  shall  be  added  to 
him ;  if  any  one  takes  from  it,  his  name  shall  be  taken  • 
from  the  Book  of  Life.  If  there  be  a  sin  in  the  land, 
or  a  score  of  sins  tall  as  the  Anakim,  which  go  to  and 
fro  in  the  earth,  and  shake  the  churches  with  their  tread; 
let  these  sins  be  popular,  be  loved  by  the  powerful,  pro- 
tected by  the  affluent;  wall  the  Pharisee  sound  the 
alarm,  lift  up  the  banner,  sharpen  the  sword,  and 
descend  to  do  battle?  There  shall  not  a  man  of  them 
move  his  tongue ;  "  no,  they  are  dumb  dogs,  that  can- 
not bark,  sleeping,  lying  down,  loving  to  slumber ;  yes 
they  are  greedy  dogs,  that  can  never  have  enough." 
But  let  there  be  four  or  five  men  in  obscure  places,  not 
mighty  through  power,  renown,  or  understanding,  or 
eloquence ;  let  them  utter  in  modesty  a  thought  that  is 
new,  which  breathes  of  freedom,  or  tends  directly 
towards  God,  and  every  Pharisee  of  the  Pulpit  shall 
cry  out  from  Cape  Sable  to  the  Lake  of  the  Woods, 
till  the  land  ring  again.  Doubtless  it  is  heroic  thus  to 
fight  a  single  new  thought,  rather  than  a  score  of  old 
sins.  Doubtless  it  is  a  very  Christian  zeal  thus  to  pur- 
sue obscurity  to  its  retreat,  and  mediocrity  to  its  little- 
ness, and  startle  humble  Piety  from  her  knees,  while  the 
Goliath  of  sin  walks  with  impudent  forehead  at  noon- 
day in  front  of  their  armies,  and  defies  the  living  God  ; 
—  a  very  Christian  zeal,  which  would  destroy  a  modest 
champion,  however  true,  who,  declining  the  canonical 
weapons,  should  bring  down  the  foe  and  smite  off  the 
giant's  head.  Two  persons  are  mentioned  in  the  Bible, 
who  have  had  many  followers :  the  one  is  Lot's  wife, 
who  perished  looking  back  upon  Sodom  ;  the  other  De- 
metrius, who  feared  that  "  this  our  craft  is  in  danger  to 
be  set  at  nought." 


212  THE    PHARISEES. 

Such,  then,  are  the  Pharisees.  We  ought  to  accept 
whatever  is  good  in  them;  but  their  sins  should  be  ex- 
•posed.  Yet  in  our  indignation  against  the  vice,  charity 
should  always  be  kept  for  the  man.  There  is  "a  soul 
of  Goodness  in  things  evil,"  even  in  the  Pharisee,  for  he 
also  is  a  man.  It  is  somewhat  hard  to  be  all  that  God 
made  us  to  become,  and  if  a  man  is  so  cowardly  he  will 
only  aim  to  seem  something,  he  deserves  pity,  but  cer- 
tainly not  scorn  or  hate.  Bad  as  he  appears,  there  is 
yet  somewhat  of  Goodness  left  in  him,  like  Hope  at  the 
bottom  of  Pandora's  box.  Fallen  though  he  is,  he  is 
yet  a  man,  to  love  and  be  loved.  Above  all  men  is  the 
Pharisee  to  be  pitied.  He  has  grasped  at  a  shadow, 
and  he  feels  sometimes  that  he  is  lost.  With  many  a 
weary  step  and  many  a  groan,  he  has  hewn  him  out 
broken  cisterns  that  hold  no  water,  and  sits  dusty  and 
faint  beside  them ;  "  a  deceived  heart  has  turned  him 
aside,"  and  there  is  "  a  lie  in  his  right  hand."  INIean- 
timc  the  stream  of  life  hard  by  falls  from  the  Rock  of 
Ages  ;  its  waters  flow  for  all ;  and  when  the  worn  j)il- 
grim  stoops  to  drink,  he  rises  a  stronger  man,  and  thirsts 
no  more  for  the  hot  and  polluted  fountain  of  Deceit  and 
Sin.  Further  down  men  leprous  as  Naaman  may  dip 
and  be  healed. 

W^hile  these  six  classes  of  Pharisees  pursue  their 
wicked  way,  the  path  of  real  manliness  and  Religion 
opens  before  each  soul  of  us  all.  The  noblest  sons  of 
God  have  trodden  therein,  so  that  no  one  need  wander. 
Moses,  and  Jesus,  and  .John,  and  Paul,  have  gained  their 
salvation  by  being  real  men ;  content  to  seek  Goodness 
and  God,  they  found  their  reward;  they  blessed  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  and  entered  the  kingdom  of  re- 
ligious souls.  It  is  not  possible  for  Falseness  or  Reality 
to  miss  of  its  due  recompense.     The  net  of  divine  jus- 


THE   PHARISEES.  213 

tice  sweeps  clean  to  its  bottom  the  ocean  of  man,  and 
all  things,  that  are,  receive  their  due.  ^The  Pharisee 
may  pass  for  a  Christian,  and  men  may  be  deceived  for 
a  time,  but  God  never.  In  his  impartial  balance  it  is 
only  real  Goodness  that  has  weight.  The  Pharisee 
may  keep  up  the  show  of  Religion ;  but  what  avails 
it  ?  Real  sorrows  come  home  to  that  false  heart ;  and 
when  the  strong  man  tottering  calls  on  God  for  more 
strength,  how  shall  the  false  man  stand  ?  Before  the 
Justice  of  the  All-seeing,  where  shall  he  hide  ?  Men 
may  have  the  Pharisee's  Religion,  if  they  will,  and  they 
have  his  reward,  which  begins  in  self-deception,  and 
ends  in  ashes  and  dust.  They  may,  if  they  choose, 
have  the  Christian's  Religion,  and  they  have  also  his 
reward,  which  begins  in  the  great  resolution  of  the 
heart,  continues  in  the  action  of  what  is  best  and  most 
manly  in  human  nature,  and  ends  in  Tranquillity  and 
Rest  for  the  Soul,  which  words  are  powerless  to  de- 
scribe, but  which  man  must  feel  to  know.  To  each 
man,  as  to  Hercules,  there  come  two  counsellors ;  the 
one  of  the  Flesh,  to  offer  enervating  pleasures  and  un- 
real joys  for  the  shadow  of  Virtue ;  the  other  of  the 
Spirit,  to  demand  a  life  that  is  lovely,  holy,  and  true. 
"  Which  will  you  have  ?  "  is  the  question  put  by  Provi- 
dence to  each  of  us ;  and  the  answer  is  the  daily  life  of 
the  Pharisee  or  the  Christian.  Thus  it  is  of  a  man's 
own  choice  that  he  is  cursed  or  blessed ;  that  he  ascends 
to  Heaven,  or  goes  down  to  Hell.  . 


YIII. 

ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS  * 


It  is  sometimes  fancied  that  here  in  New  England 
the  education  of  the  mass  of  men  and  women,  who  do 
all  the  work  of  the  world,  is  so  near  perfection,  that 
little  need  be  done  but  keep  what  we  have  got  to  attain 
the  highest  destination  of  any  people.  But  as  things 
are  sometimes  seen  more  clearly  by  their  reflection  in 
an  artificial  mirror,  than  when  looked  at  in  the  natural 
way,  let  us  illustrate  our  own  condition  by  contrasting 
it  with  another  widely  different.  Let  us  suppose  we 
were  to  go  to  some  region  in  the  heart  of  the  African 
continent,  and  should  find  a  highly  cultivated  nation, 
with  towns  and  cities,  and  factories  and  commerce, 
equi])ped  with  the  thousand  arts  which  dilfuse  comfort 
all  over  society,  but  should  find  the  whole  class  of  law- 
yers were  ignorant  men.  That  they  could  scarcely  read 
and  write,  and  never  read  any  thing  beyond  the  news- 
papers, books  of  legal  forms,  and  similar  matters  of  the 
most  trifling  magnitude.     That  they  could  repeat  the 

*From  Lectures  before  the  American  Institute  for  Instruction. 
August,  1841. 


EDUCATION  OP  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       215 

laws  inherited  from  their  ancestors,  or  enacted  from 
time  to  time,  by  their  contemporaries,  bu^iever  dreamed 
of  inquiring  whether  these  laws  were  right  or  wrong ; 
still  less  of  examining  the  principle  on  which  they 
rested,  or  ought  to  rest,  and  then  of  attempting  to  im- 
prove them.  That  they  generally  aimed  to  get  on  with 
the  smallest  outlay  of  education,  the  least  possible  ex- 
penditure of  thought  wherewith  they  could  keep  their 
sorry  station  of  legal  drudges,  yet  still  that  the  nation 
looked  to  them,  in  some  measure,  for  the  protection  of 
its  legal  rights. 

Let  us  imagine  also,  that  in  our  fabulous  country  the 
physicians  were  in  the  same  state  of  ignorance  with  the 
lawyers.  That  they  had  inherited  from  their  fathers  a 
few  traditional  rules  of  medical  practice,  which  they 
applied  mechanically  to  all  sorts  of  cases,  but  never 
thought  of  looking  into  the  cause  or  process  of  disease; 
of  discovering  the  laws  of  health ;  of  devising  new  rem- 
edies, or  making  the  old  more  efficacious.  That  they 
took  little  care  to  get  an  accurate  knowledge  of  their 
own  profession,  and  no  pains  at  all  to  increase  their 
stock  of  general  knowledge,  acquire  mental  skill,  and 
give  a  generous  and  healthful  development  to  all  the 
faculties  with  which  God  endows  the  race  of  men. 
That  they  made  their  calling  a  drudgery,  which  gave 
them  daily  bread,  but  nothing  more.  That  their  whole 
life  was  mere  handicraft.  That  they  started  in  their 
profession  with  a  slender  outfit  of  education,  either 
special  or  general ;  usually  grew  more  and  more  stupid 
after  they  were  five-and-twenty,  and  only  in  rare  in- 
stances made  a  continual  and  life-long  progress  in  what 
becomes  a  man,  thus  growing  old  in  being  taught  and 
attaining  in  life  a  complete  manhood,  but  still  that  the 


216       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

public  depended  on  this  class  for  the  preservation  of  the 
general  health. 

To  go  still  further,  let  us  fancy  that  the  clergy  also 
wandered  in  the  same  way  of  ignorance,  and  that  class, 
which  in  some  countries  is  the  best  instructed,  had  here 
the  least  cultivation.  That  taking  the  advice  which  the 
devil,  in  a  popular  legend,  gives  to  a  student  of  divinity, 
they  "  stuck  to  words,  and  words  only."  That  they 
could  repeat  a  few  prayers,  learned  by  rote  from  their 
predecessors ;,  took  their  religion  on  trust  from  their 
fathers,  never  asking  if  the  one  were  perfect,  or  the 
other  true.  That  they  both  trembled  and  cursed 
when  the  least  innovation  was  made  in  either.  That 
they  could  go  through  the  poor  mummery  of  the  African 
ritual,  with  sonorous  unction,  by  their  bigotry,  making 
an  abomination  of  what  should  be  a  delight,  but  never 
attempting  to  understand  what  the  service  meant. 
That  they  could  give  official  advice  to  the  people,  on 
days  of  religious  ceremony,  which  advice  consisted 
solely  of  commonplace  maxims  of  prudence,  virtue,  and 
religion,  which  all  but  the  children  knew  as  well  as  they. 
That  the  mass  of  the  clergy  never  dreamed  of  reading 
a  book  which  had  thought  in  it ;  never  made  that  "  vehe- 
ment application  of  mind "  which  the  great  Roman 
called  "  study ; "  knew  little  of  the  history  of  their  own 
country,  or  the  state  of  other  lands ;  made  no  scientific 
study  of  theology,  which  it  was  their  duty  to  teach  and 
explain.  That  they  paid  no  attention  to  science ;  knew 
no  more  of  the  stars,  or  the  flowers,  the  laws  of  matter, 
or  the  laws  of  mind,  than  the  kindred  clod  they  trod 
down  as  they  walked.  That  literature  was  a  depart- 
ment they  never  entered,  cither  as  host  or  guest.  That 
they  were  ignorant  of  the  various  forms  their  religion 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       217 

had  assumed,  and  knew  little  of  even  the  rise  and  pro- 
gress of  the  faith  they  professed ;  sometj^ies  taught  as 
old  what  was  of  but  few  years  existence,  and  blasted 
things  as  new  which  really  were  of  ancient  days.  In  a 
word,  let  us  fancy  that  they  were  the  most  ignorant 
part  of  the  population  ;  spending  their  leisure,  (of  which 
they  had  abundance,)  in  sleep;  in  lounging  about  the 
resorts  of  the  idle ;  in  retailing,  or  inventing  both  small 
gossip  and  graver  scandal;  in  chattering  of  the  last 
funeral  or  the  next  wedding ;  in  talking  African  politics, 
whereof  they  knew  nothing  but  words  ;  in  smoking;  in 
chewing  the  Betelnut;  in  sitting  at  home  more  dead 
than  alive.  That  when  asked  to  improve  and  grow 
wiser,  they  replied,  "  We  know  enough  already  to  per- 
form our  official  duties.  More  learning,  accomplish- 
ment, and  skill  might  make  us  mad,  and  lead  to  inno- 
vation, and  besides  we  have  no  leisure  to  study,  and 
could  only  become  wise  by  neglecting  a  well-known 
duty."  Ignorant  as  they  were,  let  us  suppose  the  re- 
fined and  cultivated  African  public  depended  on  them 
for  the  support  of  religion. 

Now  to  make  this  picture  of  society  more  complete, 
let  us  imagine  that  these  professions  had  fallen  into  dis- 
repute, and  few  not  born  therein  ever  entered  them,  ex- 
cept men  unfit  for  any  other  employment,  who  found  a 
natural  inward  vocation  for  these  as  the  proper  business 
of  the  ignorant  and  the  stupid.  That  soon  as  a  noble 
spirit,  accidentally  born  in  their  ranks,  resolved  to  im- 
prove himself,  educate  his  family,  and  really  did  set  his 
feet  forward  in  this  work,  and  thought  for  himself,  and 
took  time  to  study  and  grow  wiser,  urging  others  to  do 
the  same,  that  he  was  met  with  this  retort,  "Why  get 
more  wisdom  !  Can  you  not  eat,  and  drink,  and  sleep 
without  wisdom  ?     Can  you  not,  by  diligent  prudence, 

19 


218       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

leave  your  children,  who  shall  come  after  you  in  the 
same  craft,  to  eat  more  daintily,  and  drink  in  greater 
excess,  and  have  more  leisure,  and  sleep  with  more  deli- 
cateness,  and  all  this  with  no  wisdom  at  all  ?  Why, 
then,  waste  so  much  time  and  labor  in  this  monstrous 
bugbear  of  an  '  education  ?  '  Do  you  not  know  there 
is  something  better,  both  for  yourself  and  your  children, 
than  a  mind,  heart,  and  soul,  perfectly  cultivated  as 
God  designed  them  to  be  ?  Think  you  an  instructed 
soul  is  better  than  a  well-fed  body,  or  that  the  latter  is 
not  worth  the  most  without  the  former  ?  Besides,  do 
you  not  know  that  all  wisdom  needed  in  the  professions 
comes  by  nature,  like  hands  and  feet?  Sir,  you  rebel 
against  Providence,  you  are  a  fool,  and  we  pity  you." 
Suppose  they  sought  out  the  wisdom  of  all  the  ancients, 
and  demonstrated  by  proof  irrefragable  that  professional 
men  had  always  been  the  most  ignorant  in  the  land, 
and  it  had  come  to  be  a  proverb  that  "  Dunces  and 
fools  made  the  best  lawyers,  physicians,  and  clergy- 
men ; "  that  reasoning  as  some  always  do,  they  declared 
"what  has  been  mast  be  forever,"  and  so  accused  the 
reformers  of  violating  the  fundamental  article  of  God's 
constitution,  which  was  that  an  error,  or  a  sin,  which 
had  once  got  foothold  of  the  earth,  should  never  be  dis- 
lodged, or  even  molested. 

Imagine,  on  the  other  hand,  that  while  these  three 
classes  were  sunk  in  the  most  desperate  ignorance,  the 
farmers,  the  butchers,  the  mechanics,  the  traders,  the 
haberdashers  of  all  sorts,  were  instructed  men,  who 
thought  for  themselves.  That  they  had  free  schools  for 
all  ages,  and  that  in  abundance  ;  academies  and  col- 
leges, where  Learning  lit  her  gentle  ilame,  and  Genius 
shed  down  the  light  of  her  God-given  inspiration  to 
guide  the  young  to  wisdom  and  virtue.     That  beside 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       219 

these  general  institutions,  all  supported  at  the  public 
expense,  they  had  specific  establishments  for  each  par- 
ticular art  or  science.  That  the  farmers  had  schools  for 
agriculture,  and  the  mechanics  for  the  science  of  their 
art,  and  the  merchants  for  commerce,  and  that  all  classes 
of  the  people,  from  the  cooper  to  the  king,  —  except  the 
drones  of  those  three  professions, — were  intelligent 
and  instructed  men;  had  minds  well  accomplished; 
good  manners ;  refined  amusements,  and  met  together 
for  the  interchange  of  thoughts  no  less  than  words,  and 
yearly  grew  up  to  be  a  nobler  population. 

Let  us  add  still  further,  to  put  the  last  touch  to  this 
ideal  picture,  that  when  one  was  born  the  son  of  a  law- 
yer, a  physician,  or  a  clergyman,  and  gifted  by  Heaven 
with  better  parts  than  the  mass  of  men,  or  when  by  any 
adventure  he  became  desirous  of  growth  in  qualities 
that  become  a  man,  he  left  the  calling  of  his  fathers, 
became  a  cooper,  a  fisherman,  or  a  blacksmith,  solely 
for  the  sake  of  the  education  he  could  get  in  the  trade, 
which  he  fancied  he  could  not  get  in  the  profession,  and 
that  he  did  this,  even  when  he  loved  the  profession  he 
left,  having  a  natural  aptitude  therefor,  and  hated  the 
particular  craft  to  which  love  of  perfection  impelled 
him,  and  that  as  a  natural  consequence,  there  were  men 
in  all  these  trades  who  had  little  natural  taste,  or  even 
ability  for  their  employment ;  who  longed  to  quit  it,  and 
were  retained  therein  when  its  ranks  were  overcrowded, 
and  themselves  as  good  as  useless,  solely  because  they 
saw  no  chance  to  educate  their  better  nature  in  any  of 
the  three  professions. 

What  should  we  say  to  this  state  of  things  ?  What 
to  the  fact,  that  here  were  three  classes  of  men,  who, 
instead  of  getting  the  most  they  could  of  wisdom,  were 
content  to  take  up  the  most  beggarly  pittance  where- 


220       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

with  their  drudgery  could  be  done?  Doubtless  we 
should  say  it  was  a  very  sad  state  of  affairs ;  most 
foolish  and  monstrous.  It  was  WTong  that  these  classes 
should  continue  in  ignorance,  with  no  effort  made  for 
their  liberation.  It  was  wrong  the  ablest  heads  in 
Africa, —  who  are  the  natural  sovereigns  of  the  land, — 
did  not  take  up  the  matter,  and  toil  day  and  night  to 
redress  an  evil  so  striking  and  fearful ;  it  was  doubly 
wrong  that  strong  minds  left  a  calling  in  which  they 
were  born;  to  which  they  were  adapted  by  nature  and 
choice,  to  seek  out  of  it  an  education  they  might  find 
in  it,  had  they  the  manliness  to  make  the  search.  It 
was  false  in  them  to  desert  the  calling  for  which  nature 
made  them,  seeking  to  rise  above  it,  not  seeking  to  raise 
their  calling  to  their  own  stature.  We  should  thank 
heaven  that  we  had  a  Christian  rule  for  the  strong  help- 
ing the  weak,  and  should  say,  "  Such  evils  could  exist 
only  in  a  heathen  land,"  and  pious  men  would  sail  in 
the  next  ship  to  set  matters  right. 

But  we  have  only  to  change  the  names  a  little,  and 
instead  of  lawyers,  physicians,  and  clergymen,  to  read 
"  the  greater  part  of  laboring  men  and  women,"  and 
this  fabulous  country  is  in  the  midst  of  Massachusetts, 
not  the  heart  of  Africa.  Of  us  is  the  fable  told,  and  on 
this  body  of  men  depends  the  ark  of  our  political  salva- 
tion. In  New  England  the  men  of  these  three  profes- 
sions are  generally  the  best  educated  men  in  the  land. 
They  go  diligently  through  a  long  j^rocess  of  general 
training,  well  adapted  to  exercise  and'  strengthen  the 
memory,  judgment,  and  imagination,  and  afford  a 
variety  and  compass  of  useful  knowledge.  They  spend 
years,  likewise,  in  gaining  the  information  and  skill 
requisite  for  their  peculiar  craft.  We  have  colleges  for 
the  general  training,  and  other  seminaries  for  the  special 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       221 

education  of  these  men,  for  all  see  the  advantage  which 
accrues  to  the  public  from  having  educated  lawyers, 
physicians,  and  clergymen  in  its  ranks.  But  meantime 
the  education  of  all  the  others,  as  a  general  rule,  is 
grossly  neglected.  But  there  seems  little  reason,  if  any 
at  all,  why  men  destined  for  these  three  professions 
should  be  better  educated  than  farmers  and  mechanics. 
An  educated  lawyer,  his  mind  stored  with  various  infor- 
mation, memory,  fancy,  judgment,  and  all  his  faculties 
quick  and  active,  with  skill  to  turn  them  all  to  the  best 
account  in  his  special  calling,  is,  no  doubt,  a  safeguard, 
an  ornament,  and  a  blessing  to  any  country  ;  and  he  is 
this,  not  because  he  is  a  lawyer,  but  a  free,  educated 
man,  living  man-like,  and  would  be  just  as  useful  were 
he  a  blacksmith  or  a  carpenter ;  for  it  is  not  the  place  a 
man  stands  in  which  makes  him  the  safeguard,  orna- 
ment, and  blessing,  but  the  man  who  stands  in  the 
place. 

It  is  time  that  we  in  New  England  had  given  up  that 
old  notion,  that  a  man  is  to  be  educated  that  he  may 
by  his  education  serve  the  State,  and  fill  a  bar  or  a  pul- 
pit, be  a  captain  or  a  constable ;  time  we  had  begun  to 
act,  and  in  good  earnest,  on  this  principle,  that  a  man 
is  to  be  educated  because  he  is  a  Man,  and  has  faculties 
and  capabilities  which  God  sent  him  into  this  world  to 
develop  and  mature.  The  education  of  classes  of  men 
is,  no  doubt,  a  good  thing,  as  a  single  loaf  is  something 
in  a  famished  household.  But  the  education  of  all  born 
of  woman  is  a  plain  duty.  If  reason  teaches  any  thing 
it  is  this.  If  Christianity  teaches  any  thing,  it  is  that 
men  serve  God  with  their  mind,  heart,  and  soul,  and 
this,  of  course,  demands  an  education  of  mind,  heart, 
and  soul,  not  only  in  lawyers,  physicians,  and  clergy- 
men, but  in  all  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Adam.     Men 

19* 


222       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

are  to  seek  this  for  themselves ;  the  public  is  to  provide 
it,  not  because  a  man  is  to  fill  this  or  that  station,  and 
so  needs  the  culture,  but  because  he  is  a  man,  and 
claims  the  right,  under  the  great  charter  whereby  God 
created  him  an  immortal  soul. 

Now  it  is  true  that  we  have,  here  and  there,  an  in- 
structed man,  all.  his  faculties  awake  and  active,  a  man 
master  of  himself,  and  thus  attaining  his  birthright 
"  dominion  over  all  flesh."  But  still  the  greater  part  of 
men  and  women,  even  here,  are  ignorant.  The  mark 
they  aim  at  is  low.  It  is  not  a  maxim  generally  ad- 
mitted, or  often  acted  upon,  that  this  world  is  a  school; 
that  man  is  in  it,  not  merely  to  eat  and  drink,  and  vote, 
and  get  gain  or  honors,  (as  many  Americans  seem  to 
fancy,)  but  that  he  is  here  and  to  do  all  these  things  for 
the  sake  of  growing  up  to  the  measure  of  a  complete 
man.  We  have  put  the  means  for  the  end,  and  the  end 
for  the  means. 

Every  one  sees  the  change  education  makes  in  ani- 
mals. We  could  not  plough  with  a  wild  buffalo,  nor 
hunt  with  a  dog  just  taken  savage  from  the  woods. 
But  here  the  advantage  is  not  on  the  animal's  side. 
His  education  is  against  his  nature.  It  lessens  his  ani- 
mal quaUties,  so  that  he  is  less  a  dog  or  a  buffalo  than 
he  was  before.  With  man  the  change  it  produces  is 
greater  still,  for  here  it  is  not  against  nature.  It  en- 
hances his  human  qualities,  and  he  is  more  a  man  after 
it  than  before.  All  the  difference  between  the  English 
scholar,  with  his  accomplishment  and  skill,  and  the 
English  boor,  who  is  almost  an  animal ;  all  the  differ- 
ence between  the  wise  and  refined  Brahmin  and  the  de- 
based and  enslaved  Pariah  ;  all  the  difterence  between 
the  best  educated  men  of  Massachusetts  and  the  natives 


EDUCATION    OF   THE   LABORING    CLASS.  223 

of  New  Zealand,  ignorant,  savage,  cannibal  as  they  are, 
comes  of  this  circumstance,  —  one  has  had  a  better  edu- 
cation  than  the  other.  At  birth  they  were  equally  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  same  humanity  burns  in 
all  hearts ;  the  same  soul  ebbs  and  flows  in  all  that  are 
born  of  woman.  The  pecuharity  of  each  man,  —  slight 
and  almost  imperceptible  when  measured  by  his  whole 
nature,  —  and  the  particular  circumstances  to  which  he 
is  exposed,  make  all  this  difference  between  savage  and 
civilized.  Some  five-and-twenty  centuries  ago  our  an- 
cestors, in  the  wilds  of  Europe,  were  quite  as  ignorant, 
cruel,  and  savage,  as  these  men  of  New  Zealand,  and 
we  have  become  what  we  are,  only  through  the  influ- 
ence of  culture  and  education,  which  ages  have  pro- 
duced and  matured.  But  each  child  in  Boston  is  born 
a  savage  as  much  as  at  Otaheite.  No  doubt,  in  the  pas- 
sage our  fathers  went  through  from  the  savage  to  the 
civilized  state,  much  has  been  lost,  but  more  is  won, 
and  it  is  time  to  retrieve  what  is  lost,  and  grasp  more 
for  the  future.  No  doubt  there  are  some  in  this,  as  in 
all  civilized  countries,  who  are  still  barbarians,  and  by 
no  means  gainers  through  the  civilization  of  their  breth- 
ren ;  but  it  is  time  the  foremost  rank  turned  round 
to  look  after  their  straggling  brothers.  If  education, 
through  schools,  churches,  books,  and  all  the  institutions 
of  society  were  neglected  all  over  the  earth,  for  a  single 
generation,  the  whole  race  would  fall  back  into  a  savage 
state.  But  if  the  culture  of  one  single  generation  could 
be  enhanced,  the  spiritual  welfare  of  mankind  would 
also  be  enhanced  to  the  end  of  time. 

It  must  appear  plain  to  all  who  will  think,  that  after 
providing  for  the  support  and  comfort  of  the  body, — 
which  must  be  the  basis  of  all  spiritual  operations, — 
the  great  work  of  the  men  and  women  now  on  the  earth 


224       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

is  to  educate  themselves,  and  the  next  generation  of  men 
and  women  rising  up  to  take  their  place.  All  things 
which  do  not  tend  directly  or  indirectly  to  one  of  these 
two  ends,  —  the  physical  or  the  spiritual  development 
of  man,  —  are  worse  than  worthless.  We  are  sent  into 
the  world  that  we  might  accomplish  this  work  of  edu- 
cation. The  world  witiiout  harmonizes  most  beauti- 
fully with  the  craving  spirit  within.  If  a  man  start  with 
the  requisite  outfit,  and  use  diligently  the  means  before 
him,  all  the  callings  of  life,  the  vicissitudes  that  chequer 
our  days;  the  trials  we  are  in;  the  crosses  we  carry; 
our  hopes  and  our  fears;  our  foes  and  our  friends;  our 
disappointment  and  success ;  are  all  guides  and  instruct- 
ors to  help  us  on,  be  our  condition  what  it  may. 

Now  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  rnle  that  will  stand 
the  test  of  rigid  scrutiny,  that  all  men  are  to  be  edu- 
cated to  the  greatest  possible  extent;  that  education  is 
to  be  regarded  as  an  end,  valuable  for  itself,  and  not 
simply  as  a  means,  valuable  because  conducive  to  some 
other  end;  and  also  that  the  whole  community  owes 
each  individual  in  it  the  best  education  his  nature  and 
the  circumstances  of  the  public  will  allow.  But  in  op- 
position to  this  rule,  demanding  the  education  of  all,  it 
may  be  said,  as  it  always  has  been,  by  the  educated 
themselves,  that  there  must  be  an  educated  class  it  is 
true,  but  also,  from  the  imperfection  of  man,  the  neces- 
sity of  the  case,  and  the  very  natm-e  of  things,  there 
must  be  an  ignorant  class  also ;  that  the  hard  work 
necessary  for  the  comfortable  subsistence  of  man  in  so- 
ciety renders  it  indispensable  that  seven  eighths  of  men 
should  continue  in  almost  hopeless  ignorance.  This 
doctrine  has  been  taught  these  thousand  years,  and 
while  it  has  sometimes  been  accepted  by  the  wise  and 
the  benevolent,  whom  the  difficulty  of  the  case  forced 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       225 

to  despair,  —  it  has  too  generally  become  the  creed  of 
the  strong,  and  the  indolent,  and  the  sejfish.  But  at 
first  sight  it  seems  to  belong  to  that  same  class  of  say- 
ings with  the  remark  of  a  distinguished  "  divine  "  of  the 
Church,  that  if  there  were  no  Vice  to  hate,  there  would 
be  no  Virtue  to  love,  and  this  other  of  a  similar  "divine" 
of  the  State,  that  without  slavery  in  the  one  class  there 
would  be  no  freedom  in  the  other.  No  doubt,  under 
any  possible  circumstances  there  will  always  be  a  great 
diflerence  in  the  attainments  and  powers  of  men,  for 
this  difference  originates  in  the  -  difference  of  endow- 
ments God  bestows,  —  no  education  can  prevent  this. 
But  is  there  any  argument  to  show,  that  the  laboring 
men  of  New  England  cannot  attain  as  good  an  edu- 
cation as  the  mass  of  lawyers  and  clergymen  now 
possess  ? 

One  great  argument  in  support  of  the  common  no- 
tion, that  the  majority  of  the  human  family  must 
always  be  ignorant,  is  drawn  from  history.  Men  appeal 
to  this  authority,  and  quote  precedents,  in  great  num- 
bers, to  show  it  has  always  been  so,  and  so  must  always 
be.  But  it  does  not  follow  the  future  must  be  just  like 
the  past,  for  hitherto  no  two  ages  have  been  just  alike. 
God  does  not  repeat  himself,  so  to  say,  nor  make  two 
ages  or  two  men  just  alike.  The  history  of  past  times 
does  indeed  show  that  the  mass  of  men  have  always 
been  ignorant,  and  oppressed  likewise.  But  few  men 
in  America  think  this  a  sound  argument  to  justify  op- 
pression. Is  it  stronger  for  ignorance  ?  Let  us  look 
more  carefully  at  this  same  history,  —  which  shows  that 
there  always  has  been  an  ignorant  class,  —  perhaps  it 
has  other  things  to  say  likewise.  It  shows  a  progress 
in  man's  condition,  almost  perpetual,  from  the  first  be- 
ginnings of  history  down  to  the  present  day.     To  look 


226       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

at  the  progress  of  our  own  ancestors,  —  two  thousand 
years  gone  by,  no  man  within  the  bounds  of  Britain 
could  read  or  write ;  three  fourths  of  the  people  were 
no  better  than  slaves ;  all  were  savage  heathens.  If  a 
cultivated  Greek  had  proposed  to  bring  in  civilization 
and  the  arts,  no  doubt  Adelgither,  or  some  other  island 
chief,  would  have  mocked  at  the  introduction  of  agri- 
culture and  the  mechanic  arts,  and  would  foretell  the 
sinking  of  the  firm  land  through  the  wrath  of  "  all- 
powerful  Hu,"  if  such  measures  were  attempted. 
Within  a  very  few  centuries  there  was  no  man  in 
England  who  could  read  and  write,  except  the  clergy, 
and  very  few  of  that  class.  No  doubt,  it  was  then  a 
popular  maxim  with  bishops  and  prebends,  that  men  of 
each  other  class,  from  the  cobbler  to  the  courtier,  were  so 
engaged  in  their  peculiar  craft  they  could  not  be  taught 
to  read  and  write.  The  maxim,  no  doubt,  was  be- 
lieved. Nay  more,  even  now  there  are  in  that  same 
England,  men  of  wealth,  education,  rank,  and  influence, 
who  teach  that  the  laboring  people  ought  not  to  be 
taught  to  read  and  write,  and  therefore  they  hang,  — 
perilous  position,  —  as  heavy  weights  on  the  wheels  of 
reform.  Yet  agriculture  and  the  arts  came  into  the 
land ;  one  by  one,  as  time  passed  by,  men  came  up  from 
the  nobles,  the  gentry,  the  people,  learned  to  read  and 
write,  and  that  to  good  purpose,  and  laboring  men  are 
now  besfinnins:  to  thrive  on  what  has  been  branded  as 
poison.  Now,  then,  these  opinions,  that  laboring  men 
ought  not  to  be  taught  even  to  read  the  Bible ;  that 
none  but  the  clergy  need  literary  education ;  that  agri- 
culture would  sink  the  island,  are  not  these  worth  quite 
as  much  as  that  oft-repeated  maxim,  that  a  sound,  gen- 
erous, manly  education  is  inconsistent  with  a  life  of 
hard   work  ?     Experience   has   shown  that  civilization 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       227 

did  not  provoke  the  vengeance  of  Hu,  the  all-powerful ; 
that  men  can  be  instructed  in  letters  and  science,  though 
not  priests;  that  a  laboring  population,  one  most  wo- 
fuUy  oppressed  by  unjust  labor,  can  learn  to  read,  at 
least  radical  newspapers,  and  the  Bible,  still  more  radi- 
cal in  a  false  state  of  things.  Experience  daily  shows 
us  men  who,  never  relaxing  their  shoulders  from  the 
burden  of  manly  toil,  yet  attain  an  education  of  mind 
better  than  that  of  the  most  cultivated  Englishman 
seven  centuries  ago.  No  man  needs  dogmatize  in  this 
matter.  Few  will  venture  to  prophesy,  but  reasoning 
from  history,  and  the  gradual  progress  it  reveals,  are  we 
to  suppose  the  world  will  stop  with  us  ?  Is  it  too  much 
to  hope,  that  in  our  free,  wealthy.  Christian  land,  the 
time  will  come  when  that  excellence  of  education,  that 
masterly  accomplishment  of  mind,  which  we  think  now 
is  attainable  only  by  four  or  five  men  out  of  ten  thou- 
sand, shall  become  so  common  that  he  will  be  laughed 
at  or  pitied  who  has  it  not?  Certainly  the  expectation 
of  this  result  is  not  so  visionary  as  that  of  our  present 
state  would  have  appeared  a  single  century  ago.  To 
win  this  result  we  must  pay  its  price.  An  old  proverb 
represents  the  Deity  saying  to  man,  "  What  would  you 
have  ?  Pay  for  it,  and  take  it."  The  rule  holds  good 
in  education  as  in  all  things  else.  A  man  cannot  filch 
it,  as  coin,  from  his  neighbors,  nor  inherit  it  from  his 
fathers,  for  David  had  never  a  good  son,  nor  Solomon  a 
wise  one.  It  must  be  won,  each  man  toiling  for  him- 
self. But  many  are  born  of  the  ignorant  and  the  poor; 
they  see  not  how  to  gain  this  pearl  for  themselves ;  as 
things  now  are,  they  find  no  institution  to  aid  them,  and 
thus  grow  up  and  die  bodies,  and  no  more.  The  good 
sense,  the  manly  energy  of  the  natives  of  New  Eng- 
land, their  courage,  and  fortitude,  and  faith,  —  the  brain 


228       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

in  the  head,  the  brain  in  the  hand,  have  hitherto  made 
them  successful  in  all  they  undertake.  We  have 
attained  physical  comfort  to  such  a  degree  that  the 
average  duration  of  human  life  with  us  is- many  times 
greater  than  in  Italy,  the  most  civilized  of  States  sixteen 
centuries  ago ;  physical  comfort  with  philanthropists 
then  never  dreamed  of  in  their  gayest  visions.  We 
have  attained  also  a  measure  of  political  and  civil  free- 
dom, to  which  the  fairest  States  of  antiquity,  whether 
in  Greece,  Egypt,  or  Judea,  were  all  strangers ;  civil 
freedom  which  neither  the  Roman  nor  Athenian  sage 
deemed  possible  in  his  ideal  State.  Is  it,  then,  too 
much  to  hope,  —  reasoning  from  the  past,  —  that  when 
the  exhaustless  energies  of  the  American  mind  are 
turned  to  this  subject,  we  shall  go  further  still,  and 
under  these  more  favorable  circumstanceSj  rear  up  a 
noble  population,  where  all  shall  be  not  only  well  fed, 
but  well  instructed  also,  where  all  classes,  rich  and  poor, 
if  they  wish,  may  obtain  the  fairest  culture  of  all  their 
powers,  and  men  be  free  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name  ? 
Certainly  he  must  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  who  shall 
tell  us  this  cannot  be.  As  we  look  back  there  is  much 
in  the  retrospect  to  wound  and  make  us  bleed.  But 
what  then  ?  what  is  not  behind  is  before  us.  A  future, 
to  be  worked  for  and  won,  is  better  than  a  past,  to  be 
only  remembered. 

If  we  look  at  the  analogies  of  nature,  all  is  full  of 
encouragement.  Each  want  is  provided  for  at  the  table 
God  spreads  for  his  many  children.  Every  sparrow  in 
the  fields  of  New  England  has  "  scope  and  verge 
enough,"  and  a  chance  to  be  all  its  organization  will 
allow.  Can  it  be,  then,  that  man,  —  of  more  value 
than  many  sparrows,  —  of  greater  worth  than  the  whole 
external  creation,  —  must  of  necessity  have  no  chance 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       229 

to  be  all  his  nature  will  allow,  but  that  seven  eighths  of 
the  human  family  are  doomed  to  be  "  cabined,  cribbed, 
confined  ;  "  kept  on  short  allowance  of  every  thing  but 
hard  work,  with  no  chance  to  obtain  manhood,  but 
forced  to  be  always  dwarfs  and  pigmies,  manikins  in 
intellect,  not  men  ?  Let  us  beware  how  we  pay  God 
in  Caesar's  pence,  and  fasten  on  eternal  wisdom  what  is 
the  reproach  of  our  folly,  selfishness,  and  sin.  The  old 
maxim  that  any  one,  —  class  or  individual,  —  must  be 
subservient  to  the  State,  sacrificed  to  the  sin  and  in- 
terest of  the  mass,  —  that  kindred  doctrine,  —  a  fit 
corollary,  —  that  he  who  works  with  the  hand  can  do 
little  else,  is  a  foul  libel  on  nature  and  nature's  God. 
It  came  from  a  state  of  things  false  to  its  very  bottom. 
Pity  we  had  not  left  it  there.  We  are  all  gifted  with 
vast  faculties,  which  we  are  sent  into  this  world  to  ma- 
ture ;  and  if  there  is  any  occupation  in  life  which  pre- 
cludes a  man  from  the  harmonious  development  of  all 
his  faculties,  that  occupation  is  false  before  Reason  and 
Christianity,  and  the  sooner  it  ends  the  better. 

We  all  know  there  are  certain  things  which  society 
owes  to  each  man  in  it.  Among  them  are  a  defence 
from  violence ;  justice  in  matters  between  man  and 
man ;  a  supply  of  comforts  for  the  body,  when  the  man- 
is  unable  to  acquire  them  for  himself;  remuneration  for 
what  society  takes  away.  Our  policy,  equally  wise  and 
humane,  attempts  to  provide  them  for  the  humblest 
child  that  is  born  amongst  us,  and  in  almost  every  case 
these  four  things  are  actually  provided.  But  there  is 
one  more  excellent  gift  which  society  owes  to  each  ; . 
that  is  a  chance  to  obtain  the  best  education  the  man's 
nature  will  allow  and  the  community  afford.  To  what 
end  shall  we  protect  a  man's  body  from  war  and  mid- 
20 


230       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

night  violence;  to  what  end  give  him  justice  in  the 
courthouse;  repay  him  for  what  society  takes  to  itself; 
to  what  end  protect  him  from  cold  and  hunger,  and 
nakedness  and  want,  if  he  is  left  in  ignorance,  with  no 
opportunity  to  improve  in  head,  or  heart,  or  soul?  If 
this  opportunity  be  not  given,  the  man  might,  as  it 
were,  bring  an  action  before  heaven's  high  chancery,  and 
say,  "  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not  in  ;  naked, 
and  ye  clothed  me  not.  Ignoranf,  —  ye  would  not  in- 
struct me.  Weak  and  unarmed,' — ye  put  me  in  the 
forefront  of  the  battle,  where  my  utter  ruin  was  una- 
voidable; I  had  strong  passions,  which  ye  did  not  give 
me  religion  to  charm  down.  I  waxed  wicked,  and  was 
scarred  all  over  with  the  leprosy  of  sin,  but  ye  took  no 
pity  on  me.  I  hungered  and  thirsted  after  the  bread  of 
life,  —  not  knowing  my  need,  —  ye  gave  me  a  stone, — 
the  walls  of  a  jail,  —  and  I  died  ignominious  and  un- 
pitied,  the  victim  of  society,  not  its  foe." 

Here,  in  Massachusetts,  it  seems  generally  admitted, 
the  State  owes  each  man  the  opportunity  to  begin  an 
education  of  himself  This  notion  has  erected  the  fair 
and  beautiful  fabric  of  our  free  schools ;  the  cradle  of 
freedom;  the  hope  of  the  poor;  the  nursery  of  that 
spirit  which  upholds  all  that  is  good  in  Church  and 
State.  But  as  yet  only  a  beginning  is  made.  We  are 
still  on  short  allowance  of  wisdom  and  cultivation ;  not 
a  gill  of  water  a  day  for  each  man.  Our  system  of 
popular  education,  even  where  it  is  most  perfect,  is  not 
yet  in  harmony  with  the  great  American  idea,  which 
has  fought  our  battles  with  the  elements,  built  up  our 
institutions,  and  made  us  a  great  people.  It  is  an  old 
transatlantic  system  of  education,  which  is  too  often  fol- 
lowed, not  congenial  with  our  soil,  our  atmosphere,  our 
people.      From  feudal  times  and  governments  which 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       231 

knew  little  of  the  value  of  the  human  soul,  the  equality 
of  all  before  God,  the  equal  rights  of  stro»g  and  weak, 
their  equal  claims  for  a  manly  edacation,  —  from  them 
we  have  derived  the  notion,  that  only  a  few  need  a  lib- 
eral, generous  education,  and  that  these  few  must  be 
the  children  of  wealth,  or  the  well-born  sons  of  genius, 
who  have  many  hands  and  dauntless  courage,  and  faith 
to  remove  mountains,  who  live  on  difficulties,  and,  like 
gravitation  itself,  burst  through  all  impediments.  There 
will  always  be  men  whom  nothing  can  keep  unedu- 
cated; men  like  Franklin  and  Bowditch,  who  can  break 
down  every  obstacle ;  men  gifted  with  such  tenacity  of 
resolution ;  such  vigor  of  thought ;  such  power  of  self- 
control,  they  live  on  difficulties,  and  seem  strongest 
when  fed  most  abundantly  with  that  rugged  fare  ;  men 
that  go  forth  strong  as  the  sun  and  as  lonely,  nor  brook 
to  take  assistance  from  the  world  of  men.  For  such  no 
provision  is  needed.  They  fight  their  own  battles,  for 
they  are  born  fully  armed,  terrible  from  their  very  begin- 
ning. To  them  difficulty  is  nothing.  Poverty  but 
makes  them  watchful.  Shut  out  from  books  and  teach- 
ers,—  they  have  instructors  in  the  birds  and  beasts,  and 
whole  Vatican  libraries  in  the  trees  and  stones.  They 
fear  no  discouragement.  They  go  on  the  errand  God 
sent  them,  trusting  in  him  to  bless  the  gift  he  gave. 
They  beat  the  mountain  of  difficulty  into  dust,  and  get 
the  gem  it  could  not  hide  from  an  eye  piercing  as 
Argus.  But  these  men  are  rare,  —  exceptions  to  the 
rule ;  strong  souls  in  much-enduring  flesh.  Others,  of 
greater  merit  perhaps,  but  less  ruggedness  of  spirit,  less 
vigor  of  body,  who  cannot  live  with  no  sympathy  but 
the  silent  eloquence  of  nature,  and  God's  rare  visita- 
tions of  the  inner  man,  require  the  aid  of  some  institu- 
tions to  take  them  up  where  common  schools  let  them 


232       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

fall,  and  bear  them  on  till  they  can  walk  alone.  Over 
many  a  village  churchyard  in  the  midst  of  us  it  may 
still  be  writ,  with  no  expression  of  contingency, 

"  Perhaps  in  this  neglected  spot  is  laid, 

Some  heart  once  pregnant  with  celestial  fire, 
Hands  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  swayed, 
Or  waked  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre. 

But  Knowledge  to  their  eyes  her  ample  page, 
Rich  with  the  spoils  of  time,  did  ne'er  unroll, 

Chill  penury  repressed  their  noble  rofje. 
And  froze  the  genial  current  of  the  soul." 

To  have  a  perfect  people,  said  pagan  Plato,  we  must 
have  perfect  institutions,  which  means,  in  plain  English, 
to  enable  laboring  men  and  women  to  obtain  a  good 
education,  we  must  have  some  institutions  to  go  further 
than  our  common  schools. 

But  this  great  subject  of  public  education  as  yet  ex- 
cites but  litde  interest  among  us.  The  talk  made  about 
it,  by  a  few  wise  and  good  men,  proves  only  that  we 
have  it  not.  It  is  only  lost  goods  that  men  cry  in  the 
streets.  We  acknowledge  that  we  have  no  scholars  to 
match  the  learned  clerks  of  other  lands,  where  old  insti- 
tutions and  the  abundant  leisure  of  the  wealthy,  have 
trained  men  to  accomplishment  and  skill  we  never 
reach.  We  boast,  and  with  reason,  of  the  superior  edu- 
ca^^ion  of  the  great  mass  of  men  and  women  with  us. 
Certai!!  it  is  that  learning  is  more  marked  for  its  ditiu- 
sion  in  the  mass,  than  its  accumulation  in  the  individ- 
ual. It  is  with  it  as  with  bread  in  a  besieged  city. 
Each  person  gets  a  mouthful,  but  not  one  a  full  meal. 
This,  no  doubt,  is  better  than  it  would  be  for  many  to 
perish  with  hunger,  while  a  few   had   enough   and  to 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       233 

spare.     Some  other  countries  are  worse  off*  in  this  par- 
ticular than  ourselves.     The  more  the  pity.     We  may 
rather  weep  for  them   than    rejoice  for  ourselves.     We 
can  only  boast  of  building  poorly  on   the  foundation 
our  fathers  laid,  —  laid  so  nobly  in  their  toil  and  want 
and   war.     An  absolute   monarch  in    Europe,  recently 
deceased,  not  holding  his  place  by  the  people's  choice, 
but  kept  on  his  throne  by  hired  bayonets,  and,  therefore, 
feeling  no  judicial  accountability  to  them ;  indebted  to 
a  large  amount,  has  yet  done  more  for  the  education  of 
all  classes  of  his  people,  than  all  the  politicians  of  the 
twenty-six  States  have  done  with  the  w^ealth  of  the  pub- 
lic lands  and  the  surplus  revenue  before  them,  and  the 
banner  of  freedom  over  their  heads.     We  have  orators 
enough  to  declaim  at  the  corners  of  the  street  about  the 
War  of  Independence,  —  now  the  blows  are  all  over ; 
and  the  sins  of  George  III,,  —  now  he  is  dead  and  for- 
gotten ;  in  favor  of  a  "  National  Bank  "  or  a  "  Sub-treas- 
ury,"—  as  the  popular  current  happens  to  set;  but  very 
few  to  take  up  the  holy  and  neglected  cause  of  educa- 
tion, insisting  that  all  men,  rich  and  poor,  and  low  and 
high,   shall  receive  this   priceless   boon.      Alas  for  us  I 
These   few  are  received  with   cold   hands  and   empty 
houses,  while  the  village  brawler,  ranting  of  politics,  col- 
lects the  huzzaing  crowd  from  nine  towns  round.     The 
reason  is  plain  ;  there  are  ins  for  those  out,  and  oiUs  for 
those  in.     A  "National   Bank"  and  a  "  Sub-treasury " 
have  dollars  in  them,  —  at  least  the  people  are  told  that 
it  is  so,  —  men  hope  to  get  dollars  out  of  them.     While 
the  most  "promising"   friend   of  education   offers  only 
wisdom,  virtue,  religion,  things  that  never  appear  in  the 
price-current,  and  will  not  weigh  down  an  ounce  in  the 
town-scales.     We  know  the  worth  of  dollars,  —  which 
is  something,  yes,  it  is  much.     Give  the  dollars  their 

20* 


234       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

due.     But  alas,  the  worth  of  educated  men  and  women 
we  do  not  know  ! 

The  fact  that  in  our  country  and  these  times  men  find 
it  necessary  to  leave  a  particular  calling,  which  they  like, 
and  for  which  they  are  fitted  by  nature  and  choice, — 
that  of  a  shoemaker,  a  blacksmith,  or  a  tanner,  —  and 
enter  one  of  thfe  three  professions,  for  which  they  have 
no  fondness,  nor  even  capacity,  solely  for  the  sake  of  an 
education,  —  shows  very  plainly  into  what  a  false  posi- 
tion we  have  been  brought.  We  often  lay  the  blame 
on  Providence,  and  it  seems  generally  thought  to  be  a 
law  of  the  Most  High,  that  a  man,  with  the  faculties 
of  an  angel,  should  be  born  into  the  world,  and  live  in 
it  threescore  years  and  ten,  in  the  blameless  pursuit  of 
some  calling  indispensable  to  society,  and  yet  die  out 
of  it  without  possibility  of  developing  and  maturing 
these  faculties,  thus  at  the  last  rather  ending  a  long 
death,  than  completing  a  life.  This  seems  no  enact- 
ment of  that  Lawgiver.  He  made  man  upright,  and 
we  have  sought  out  many  inventions,  some  of  them 
very  foolish.  As  things  now  are,  an  excellent  brazier, 
a  tolerable  tinker  or  tailor  is  often  spoiled  to  make  an 
indifterent  lawyer,  a  sluggish  physician,  —  coadjutor  of 
death,  —  or  a  parson,  whose  "  drowsy  tinkling  lulls  the 
distant  fold,"  solely  because  these  men,  —  innocent  of 
sinister  designs,  — wanted  an  education,  wiiich,  as  things 
were,  could  not  readily  be  got  in  the  trade,  but  came  as 
a  requisite  in  the  profession.  Now,  in  all  countries,  the 
mass  of  men  must  work;  in  our  land,  they  must  work 
and  rule  likewise.  Some  method  must,  therefore,  be 
found  to  educate  this  mass,  or  it  is  plain  our  free  institu- 
tions must  go  to  the  ground,  for  ignorance  and  freedom 
cannot  exist  together  more  than  fire  and  water  in  the 
same  vessel. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       235 

No  doubt  we  have  done  much.  But  how  much  more 
remains  to  be  done  I  That  absolute  monarch,  before 
spoken  of,  has  done  more  than  all  the  free  Americans 
in  this  matter,  and  made  his  people  our  superiors  in  al- 
most every  department  of  intellectual,  moral,  and  re- 
ligious education.  The  Americau  mind  has  never  yet 
been  applied  in  earnest  to  this  great  work,  as  to  com- 
merce, and  clearing  land,  building  factories  and  rail- 
roads. We  do  not  yet  realize  the  necessity  of 
educating  all  men.  Accordingly,  men  destined  for 
the  "learned"  professions,  as  they  are  called,  hasten 
through  the  preparatory  studies  thereof,  and  come  half 
educated  to  the  work.  The  laboring  man  starts  with  a 
very  small  capital  of  knowledge  or  mental  skill,  and 
then  thinks  he  has  no  time  for  any  thing  but  work ; 
never  reads  a  book  which  has  thought  in  it;  never 
attempts  to  make  his  trade  teach  him,  "getting  and 
spending,  he  lays  waste  his  powers."  Children  are 
hurried  from  the  common  school  just  as  they  begin  to 
learn,  and  thus  half  its  "benefits  are  lost.  The  old  rule, 
that  "  what  is  gained  in  time  is  lost  in  power,"  is  quite 
as  true  in  education  as  in  Mechanics,  as  our  experience 
is  teaching  us  at  great  cost.  Since  the  advantages  of 
the  common  school  are  not  fully  enjoyed,  many,  whose 
voices  might  be  heard,  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  a 
higher  series  of  free  schools,  —  at  least  one  in  a  county, 
—  which  should  do  for  all  what  the  college  no\A^  does 
for  a  part.  Those  only  feel  the  want  of  such  who  are 
without  voice  in  the  Commonwealth,  whose  cry  only 
Heaven  hears.  If  such  existed,  or  even  without  them, 
if  the  common  schools  were  what  all  might  be  and 
some  are,  and  their  advantages  properly  used,  then  the 
mechanic,  the  farmer,  the  shopkeeper  might  start  with  a 
good  capital  of  knowledge,  good  habits  of  study,  and 


236       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

his  trade,  if  temperately  pursued,  would  teach  him  as 
much  as  the  professions  teach  men  embarked  therein. 
Were  two  men  of  the  same  ability,  and  the  same  intel- 
lectual discipline,  to  embark  in  life,  one  a  clergyman 
and  the  other  a  farmer,  each  devoting  eight  or  ten  hours 
a  day  to  his  vocation,  spending  the  rest  of  his  time  in 
the  same  wise  way,  the  superiority  in  twenty  years 
could  scarcely  be  on  the  clergyman's  side. 

But  besides  this  lack  of  mental  capital,  with  which 
laboring  men  set  out  in  life,  there  is  another  evil,  and 
even  greater,  which  comes  of  the  mechanical  and  ma- 
terial tendency  of  our  countrymen  at  this  time.  They 
ask  a  result  which  they  can  see  and  handle,  and  since 
wisdom  and  all  manly  excellence  are  not  marketable 
nor  visible  commodities,  they  say  they  have  no  time  for 
mental  culture.  A  young  mechanic,  coming  into  one 
of  our  large  country  towns,  and  devoting  all  the  spare 
time  he  could  snatch  from  labor  or  sleep  to  hard  study, 

—  was  asked  by  an  older  companion,  "  What  do  you 
want  to  be  ?  "  supposing  he  wished  to  be  a  constable,  or 
a  captain,  or  a  member  of  the  "great  and  genera'l  court," 
it  may  be.  The  answer  was,  "  I  wish  to  be  a  man." 
"  A  man ! "  exclaimed  the  questioner,  thinking  his  friend 
had  lost  his  wits.  "  A  man !  are  you  not  twenty-one 
years  old  and  six  feet  high  ?  "  Filled  with  this  same 
foolish  notion,  men  are  willing  to  work  so  many  hours 
of  the  blessed  day,  that  the  work  enslaves  the  man. 
He  becomes  hands,  —  and  hands  only,  a  passive  drudge, 

—  who  can  eat,  drink,  and  vote.  The  popular  term  for 
working  men,  "Hands,"  is  not  without  meaning;  a 
mournful  meaning,  too,  if  a  man  but  thinks  of  it.  He 
reads  little,  —  that  of  unprofitable  matter,  and  thinks 
still  less  than  he  reads.  He  is  content  to  do  nothing 
but  work.     So  old  age  of  body  comes  upon  him  before 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       237 

the  prime  years  of  life,  and  imbecility  of  spirit  long  be- 
fore that  period.  That  human  flesh  and  blood  continue 
to  bear  such  a  state  of  things,  whence  change  is  easy, 
this  is  no  small  ixiarvel.  The  fact,  that  wise  men  and 
Christian  men  do  not  look  these  matters  in  the  face, 
and  seek  remedies  for  evils  so  wide  spread,  proves  some 
sad  things  of  the  state  of  wisdom  and  Christianity  with 
us. 

Many  laboring  men  now  feel  compelled  to  toil  all  of 
the  weekdays  with  such  severity,  that  no  time  is  left, 
for  thought  and  meditation,  —  the  processes  of  mental 
growth,  and  their  discipline  of  mind  is  not  perfect 
enough  to  enable  them  to  pursue  this  process,  while 
about  their  manual  work.  One  man  in  the  village,  de- 
spising a  manly  growth  of  his  whole  nature,  devotes 
himself  exclusively  to  work,  and  so  in  immediate  results 
surpasses  his  wiser  competitor,  who,  feeling  that  he  is 
not  a  body  alone,  but  a  soul  in  a  body,  would  have 
time  for  reading,  study,  and  the  general  exercise  and 
culture  of  his  best  gifts.  The  wiser  man,  ashamed  to 
be  distanced  by  his  less  gifted  neighbor ;  afraid  too  of 
public  opinion,  which  still  counts  beef  and  brandy  better 
than  a  wise  mind  and  a  beautiful  soul ;  unwilling  to 
wear  coarse  raiment  and  fare  like  a  hermit,  that  his 
mind  be  bravely  furnished  within  and  sumptuously  fed, 
—  devotes  himself  also  exclusively  to  his  toil,  and  the 
evil  spreads.  The  few  men  with  us,  who  have  leisure 
enough  and  to  spare,  barely  devote  it  to  the  Christian 
work  of  lightening  the  burdens  of  their  brethren.  Rather 
by  withdrawing  their  necks  from  the  common  yoke,  do 
they  increase  the  weight  for  such  as  are  left  faithful. 
Hence  the  evil  yearly  becomes  worse,  —  as  some  men 
fear,  —  and  the  working  man  finds  his  time  for  study 
abridged  more  and  more.     Even  the  use  of  machinery 


238       EDUCATION  OP  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

has  hitherto  done  little  good  in  this  respecf,  to  the  class 
that  continues  to  work.  Give  a  child  a  new  knife,  he 
will  only  cut  himself.  The  sacramental  sin  of  the  edu- 
cated and  wealthy  amongst  us,  is  the  notion,  that  work 
with  the  hands  is  disgraceful.  While  they  seek  to  avoid 
the  "  disgrace,"  others  must  do  more  than  their  natural 
share.  The  lazy  man  wastes  his  leisure ;  the  industrious, 
who  does  his  work,  has  no  leisure  to  enjoy.  Affairs  will 
never  take  their  true  shape,  nor  the  laboring  class  have 
an  opportunity  to  obtain  the  culture  reason  demands 
for  them,  until  sounder  notions  of  labor,  and  a  more 
equitable  division  thereof  prevail.  When  he  works 
who  is  fit,  and  he  thinks  who  can.  Thought  and  Labor 
may  go  hand  in  hand.  The  peaceful  and  gradual 
change  already  apparent,  will  doubtless  effect  the  object 
in  time,  and  for  such  an  issue  the  world  can  afford  to 
wait  some  few  years.  It  is  common,  as  it  is  easy  and 
wicked,  to  throw  the  whole  blame  of  this  matter  on  the 
rich  and  educated.  But  this  sin  belongs  to  the  whole 
community;  though  it  must  be  most  heavily  charged 
upon  the  strongest  heads,  who  should  think  for  the 
weak,  and  help  them  think  for  themselves. 

But  even  now  much  may  be  done,  if  men  gather  up 
the  fragments  of  time.  The  blessed  Sabbath,  —  in  spite 
of  the  superstitious  abuse  thereof,  the  most  valuable 
relic  the  stream  of  time  has  brought  us,  —  in  half  a  cen- 
tury allows  more  than  seven  solid  years  redeemed  from 
toil.  There  are  the  long  nights  fef  winter,  the  frequent 
periods  when  inclement  weather  forbids  labor  in  the 
fields.  All  of  these,  taken  together,  afford  a  golden  op- 
portunity to  him  who,  having  previous  instruction,  has 
resolution  to  employ  it  well.  Books,  too,  those  "  ships 
of  thought,"  that  sail  majestic  on  through  time  and 
space,  bear  their  rich  treasure  down  to  old  and  young, 


EDUCATION  OP  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       239 

landing  them  upon  every  shore.  Their  magic  influence 
reaches  all  who  will  open  their  arms.  ,.  The  blessing 
they  bring  may  quicken  the  laborer's  mind,  and  place 
him  where  he  did  not  stand  before.  The  thought  of 
others  stirs  his  thought.  His  lamp  is  lit  at  some  great 
thinker's  urn,  and  glitters  with  perennial  glow.  Toil 
demands  his  hands ;  it  leaves  his  thought  fetterless  and 
free.  To  the  instructe'd  man  his  trade  is  a  study ;  the 
tools  of  his  craft  are  books ;  his  farm  a  gospel,  eloquent, 
in  its  sublime  silence ;  his  cattle  and  corn  his  teachers ; 
the  stars  his  guides  to  virtue  and  to  God,  and  every 
mute  and  every  living  thing,  by  shore  or  sea,  a  heaven- 
sent prophet  to  refine  his  mind  and  heart.  He  is  in 
harmony  with  nature,  and  his  education  goes  on  with 
the  earth  and  the  hours.  Many  such  there  are  in  the 
lanes  and  villages  of  New  England.  They  are  the 
hope  of  the  land.  But  these  are  the  favored  sons  of 
genius  who,  under  ill-starred  circumstances,  make  a 
church  and  a  college  of  their  daily  work.  To  all,  as 
things  now  are,  this  is  not  possible.  But  when  all  men 
see  the  dignity  of  manual  work,  few  will  be  so  foolish 
as  to  refuse  the  privilege  of  labor,  though  many  are 
now  wicked  enough  to  shrink  from  it  as  a  burden. 
Then  it  will  be  a  curse  to  none,  but  a  blessing  to  all. 
Then  there  will  be  time  enough  for  all  to  live  as  men  ; 
the  meat  will  not  be  reckoned  more  than  the  life,  nor 
the  soul  wasted  to  pamper  the  flesh.  Then  some  insti- 
tution, not  yet  devised,  may  give  the  mass  of  men  a 
better  outfit  of  education,  and  art  supply  what  nature 
did  not  give,  and  no  man,  because  he  toils  with  his 
hands,  be  forced  to  live  a  body,  and  no  more. 

The  education  which  our  people  need,  apart  from 
strength  and  skill  in  their  peculiar  craft,  consists  in  cul- 
ture of  mind,  of  the  moral  and  the  religious  nature.  What 


240  EDUCATION    OF    THE    LABORIXG    CLASS. 

God  has  joined  can  never  safely  be  put  asunder.  With- 
out the  aid  of  practised  moral  principle  what  mental 
education  can  guide  the  man ;  without  the  comfort  and 
encouragement  of  religion  what  soul,  however  well  en- 
dowed with  intellectual  and  moral  accomplishments, 
can  stand  amid  the  ceaseless  wash  of  contending 
doubts,  passions,  interests,  and  fears  ?  All  partial  edu- 
cation is  false.  Such  as  would  cultivate  the  mind 
alone  soon  fail  of  the  end.  The  ship  spreads  wide  her 
canvas,  but  has  neither  ballast  nor  heim.  It  has  been 
said  the  education  of  the  laboring  class  is  safe  neither 
for  the  nation  nor  the  class,  and  if  only  the  understand- 
ing is  cultivated,  there  is  a  shadow  of  truth  somewhere 
about  the  remark.  An  educated  knave  or  pirate  is,  no 
doubt,  more  dangerous  than  a  knave  or  pirate  not  edu- 
cated. It  appears  in  some  countries  that  crime  in- 
creases with  education.  This  fact  has  caused  the  foes 
of  the  human  race  to  shout  long  and  loud,  and  the 
noise  of  their  shouting  comes  over  the  Atlantic  to  alarm 
us.  The  result  could  have  been  foreseen  when  the  edu- 
cation was  intellectual  chiefly.  But  even  then,  great 
crimes,  against  the  human  person,  become  rare,  and 
who  shall  say  the  increased  crimes  against  property, 
have  not  come  from  the  false  system  on  which  property 
is  held,  quite  as  much  as  from  the  false  system  of  edu- 
cation ?  Still  the  grand  rule  holds  good,  that  intellec- 
tual education  alone  is  fearfully  insufficient.  Let  the 
whole  nature  of  man  be  developed.  Educate  only  Ihe 
moral  nature,  —  men  are  negatively  virtuous,  as  a  dead 
man  will  neither  lie  nor  steal.  They  who  seek  only 
religious  education  soon  degenerate  into  l)igots,,and  be- 
come tiie  slaves  of  superstition,  the  tools  of  designing 
and  crafty  men,  as  both  ancient  and  recent  history 
assures  us.     Man  only  is  manlike,  and  able  to  realize 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       241 

the  idea  for  which  he  was  made,  when  he  unfolds  all  of 
his  powers,  Mind,  Heart,  and  Soul ;  thinl»'s,  feels,  and 
worships  as  Reason,  Conscience,  and  Religion  demand, 
thus  uniting  in  himself  the  three  great  ideas  of  the 
True,  the  Good,  and  the  Holy,  which  make  up  the  sum 
of  Beauty,  the  altogether  beautiful  of  mortal  life. 

It  is  to  be  believed  the  American  mind  will  one  day 
be  turned  to  its  greatest  object,  the  rearing  up  of  a 
manly  people,  worthy  to  tread  these  hills,  and  breathe 
this  air,  and  worship  in  the  temples  our  fathers  built, 
and  lie  down  in  their  much  honored  graves.  Who  shall 
say  the  dream  of  men,  now  regarded  as  visionary,  shall 
not  one  day  become  a  reality  blessed  and  beautiful?  If 
the  unconquerable  energies  .of  our  people  were  turned 
to  this  work ;  if  the  talent  and  industry  so  profusely 
squandered  on  matters  of  no  pith  or  moment,  or  wasted 
in  petty  quarrels,  during  a  single  session  of  Congress ; 
if  half  the  enthusiasm  and  zeal,  spent  in  a  single  presi- 
dential election,  were  all  turned  to  devise  better  means 
of  educating  the  people,  we  cannot  help  thinking  mat- 
ters would  soon  wear  a  very  different  aspect. 

One  of  two  conclusions  we  must  accept.  Either 
God  made  man  with  desires  that  cannot  be  gratified  on, 
earth,  —  and  which  yet  are  his  best  and  most  godlike 
desires,  and  then  man  stands  in  frightful  contradiction 
with  all  the  rest  of  nature  ;  or  else  it  is  possible  for  all 
the  men  and  women  of  every  class  to  receive  a  com- 
plete education  of  the  faculties  God  gave  them,  and 
then  the  present  institutions  and  opinions  of  society  on 
this  matter  of  education  are  all  wrong,  contrary  to 
reason  and  the  law  of  God.  There  are  some  good) 
men,  and  religious  men,  doubtless,  who  think  that  in. 
this  respect  matters  can  never  be  much  mended,  that 

21 


242       EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

the  senses    must    always   overlay  the   soul,  the  strong 
crush  the  weak,  and  the  mass  of  men,  who  do  all  the 
work  of  the  world,  must  ever  be  dirty  and  ignorant, 
and  find  little  but  toil  and  animal  comfort,  till  they  go 
where   the   servant  is  free   from    his   master,  and  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest. 
These  men  represent  the  despair  and  the  selfishness  of 
society.     If  the  same  thing  that  has  been  must  be ;  if 
the  future  must  be  just  like  the  past;  if  falsehood  and 
sin  are  eternal,  and  truth  and  goodness  ephemeral  crea- 
tures of  to-day,  —  then  these   men  are  right,  and  the 
sooner  we  renounce  all  hope  of  liberty,  give  up  all  love 
of  wisdom,  and   call    Christianity  a   lie,  —  a   hideous 
lie,  —  why  the  sooner  the  better.     Let  us  never  fear  to 
look  things  in  the  face,   and  call  them  by  their  true 
names.     But  there  are  other  men,  who  say  the  past  did 
its  work,  and  we  will  do  ours.     We  will  not  bow  to  its 
idols,  though-  they  fell  from  the  clouds  ;  nor  accept  its 
limitations,  though  Lycurgus  made  poor  provision,  and 
Numa  none  at  all,  for  the  education  of  the  people  ;  we 
will    not    stop    at    its    landmarks,    nor    construct    our- 
selves in  its  image,  for  we  also  are  men.     While  we 
take,  gratefully,  whatever  past  times  bring  us,  we  will 
get  what  we  can  grasp,  and  never  be  satisfied.     These 
men  represent  the  hope  and  the  benevolence  there  is  in 
man.     If  they  are  right,  the  truths  of  Reason  are  not  a 
whim  ;  aspiration  after  perfection  is  more  than  a  dream ; 
Christianity  not  a  lie,  but  th(>  eJernal  Truth  the  All-see- 
ing has  writ  for  his  children's  welfare.    God  not  a  tyrant, 
but  the  Father  of  all.     The  sooner  these  men  are  on 
their  feet,  and  about  their  work,  \o  reinstate  fallen  man- 
kind, the  better  for  themselves  and  the  world.     They 
may  take  counsel  of  their  hopes  always;  of  their  fears 
never. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS.       243 

But  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  of  education,  as 
in  all  ways  but  that  to  destruction.  The^-e  is  no  pana- 
cea to  educate  the  race  in  a  moment,  and  with  no 
trouble.  It  is  slow  work,  the  old  way  of  each  man  toil- 
ing for  himself,  with  labor  and  self-denial  and  many 
prayers;  the  Christian  way  of  the  strong  helping  the 
weak,  thinking  for  them,  and  aiding  them  to  think  for 
themselves.  Some  children  can  scramble  up  the  moun- 
tain alone,  but  others  the  parents  must  carry  in  their 
arms.  The  way  is  for  wise  men  to  think  and  toil,  and 
toil  and  think,  remembering  that  "  Zeno  and  Chrysip- 
pus  did  greater  things,"  says  Seneca,  "  in  their  studies, 
than  if  they  had  led  armies,  borne  offices,  or  given  laws, 
which  indeed  they  did,  not  to  one  city  alone,  but  to  all 
mankind."  There  are  great  difficulties  to  be  overcome, 
as  M.  Pastoret,  a  French  judge  has  said,  respecting  im- 
provements in  the  law,  "  We  have  also  to  encounter 
mediocrity,  which  knows  nothing  but  its  old  routine ; 
always  ready  to  load  with  reproaches  such  as  have  the 
courage  to  raise  their  thoughts  and  observations  above 
the  level  to  which  itself  is  condemned.  '  These  are  in- 
novators,' it  exclaims.  '  This  is  an  innovation,'  say  the 
reproducers  of  old  ideas,  Avith  a  smile  of  contempt. 
Every  project  of  reform  is,  in  their  eyes,  the  result  of 
ignorance  or  insanity,  and  the  most  compassionate  it  is 
who  condescends  to  accuse  you  of  what  they  call  the 
bewilderment  of  your  understanding.  '  They  think 
themselves  wiser  than  their  fathers,'  says  one,  and  with 
that  the  matter  seems  decided."  Still  the  chief  obstacle 
is  found  in  the  low,  material  aims  of  our  countrymen, 
which  make  them  willing  to  toil  eight,  ten,  twelve,  six- 
teen, even  eighteen  hours  of  the  day,  for  the  body,  and 
not  one  for  the  mind;  in  the  popular  notion,  that  he 
who  works  with  the  hand  can  do   nothinj]:  else.     No 


244      EDUCATION  OF  THE  LABORING  CLASS. 

doubt  it  is  hard  work  to  overcome  these  difficulties; 
slow  work  to  get  round  them.  But  there  are  many  en- 
couragements for  the  work,  —  our  freedom  from  war; 
the  abundance  of  physical  comfort  in  our  land ;  the 
restless  activity  of  the  American  mind,  which  requires 
only  right  direction ;  in  the  facility  with  which  books 
are  printed  and  circulated;  in  the  free  schools,  which 
have  already  done  so  vast  and  beautiful  a  work  ;  in  the 
free  spirit. of  our  institutions,  which  have  hitherto  made 
us  victorious  everywhere;  but  above  all,  in  that  religion 
which  was  first  revealed  to  a  carpenter,  earliest  accepted 
by  fishermen,  most  powerfully  set  forth  by  a  tent- 
maker,  —  that  religion  which  was  the  Bethlehem-star 
of  our  fathers,,  their  guide  and  their  trust,  which  has 
nothing  to  fear,  but  every  thing  to  hope  from  knowl- 
edge wide  spread  among  the  people,  and  which  only 
attains  its  growth  and  ripens  its  fruit  when  all  are  in- 
structed, mind,  heart,  and  soul.  With  such  encourage- 
ment who  will  venture  to  despair  ? 


IX. 

HOW  TO  MOVE  THE  WORLD. 


One  day  a  philosopher  came  to  Athens,  from  a  far 
country,  to  learn  the  ways  of  the  wonderful  Greeks, 
and  perhaps  to  teach  them  the  great  lore  he  treasured 
in  his  heart.  The  wise  men  heard  him;  sought  his 
company  in  the  gardens;  talked  with  him  in  private. 
The  young  men  loved  him.  He  passed  for  a  wonder 
with  that  wonder-loving  people.  Among  those  that  fol- 
lowed him,  was  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  an  ill-favored 
young  man,  a  mechanic  of  humble  rank.  He  was  one 
of  the  few  that  understood  the  dark,  Oriental  doctrines 
of  the  Sage,  when  he  spoke  of  God,  Man,  Freedom, 
Goodness,  of  the  Life  that  never  dies.  The  young  man 
saw  these  doctrines  were  pregnant  with  actions,  and 
would  one  day  work  a  Revolution  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
disinheriting  many  an  ancient  sin  now  held  legitimj^te. 

So  he  said  to  himself,  when  he  saw  a  man  rich  or 
famous,  —  Oh,  that  I  also  were  rich,  and  famous,  I 
would  move  the  world  so  soon.  Here  are  sins  to  be 
plucked  up  and  truths  to  be  planted.  Oh  that  I  could 
do  it  all,  I  would  mend  the  world  right  soon.  Yet  he 
did  nothing  but  wait  for  Wealth  and  Fame.     One  day 

21* 


246  now  TO  move  the  world. 

the  Sage  heard  him  complain  with  himself,  and  said, 
Young  man,  thou  speakest  as  silly  women.  This  Gos- 
pel of  God  is  writ  for  all.     Let  him  that  would  move 

THE  WORLD  MOVE  FIRST  HIMSELF.       He  that  WOuld  do  gOod 

to  men  begins  with  what  tools  God  gives  him,  and  gets 
more  as  the  world  gets  on.  It  asks  neither  Wealth  nor 
Fame,  to  live  out  a  noble  life,  at  the  end  of  thy  lane  in 
Athens.  Make  thy  Light  thy  Life ;  thy  Thought,  Ac- 
tion ;  others  will  come  round.  Thou  askest  a  place  to 
stand  on  hereafter  and  move  the  world.  Foolish  young 
man,  take  it  where  thou  standest,  and  begin  now.  So 
the  work  shall  go  forward.  Reform  thy  little  self,  and 
thou  hast  begun  to  reform  the  world.  Fear  not  thy 
work  shall  die ! 

The  youth  took  the  hint;  reformed  himself  of  his 
coarseness,  his  sneers,  of  all  meanness  that  was  in  him. 
His  Idea  became  his  Life ;  and  that  blameless  and 
lovely.  His  Truth  passed  into  the  public  mind  as  the 
sun  into  the  air.  His  Acorn  is  the  father  of  Forests. 
His  influence  passes  like  morning,  from  continent  to 
continent,  and  the  rich  and  the  poor  arc  blessed  by  the 
light  and  warmed  by  the  life  of  Socrates,  though  they 
know  not  his  name. 


X. 

PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY* 


There  are  some  ages  when  all  seem  to  look  for  a 
great  man  to  come  up  at  God's  call,  and  deliver  them 
from  the  evils  they  groan  under.  Then  Humanity 
seems  to  lie  with  its  forehead  in  the  dust,  calling  on 
Heaven  to  send  a  man  to  save  it.  There  are  times 
when  the  powers  of  the  race,  though  working  with 
their  wonted  activity,  appear  so  misdirected,  that  little 
permanent  good  comes  from  the  efforts  of  the  gifted ; 
times  when  governments  have  little  regard  for  the  wel- 
fare of  the  subject,  when  popular  forms  of  Religion 
have  lost  their  hold  on  the  minds  of  the  thoughtful,  and 
the  consecrated  augurs,  while  performing  the  accustom- 
ed rites,  dare  not  look  one  another  in  the  face,  lest  they 
laugh  in  public,  and  disturb  the  reverence  of  the  people, 
their  own  having  gone  long  before.  Times  there  are, 
when  the  popular  Religion  does  not  satisfy  the  hunger 
and  thirst  of  the  people  themselves.  Then  mental 
energy  seems  of  little  value,  save  to  disclose  and  chron- 
icle the  sadness  of  the  times.  No  great  works  of  deep 
and  wide   utility  are   then  undertaken  for  existing  or 

*  From  the  Dial  for  January,  1842. 


248  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

future  generations.  Original  works  of  art  are  not  sculp- 
tured out  of  new  thought.  Men  fall  back  on  the 
achievements  of  their  fathers ;  imitate  and  reproduce 
them,  but  take  no  steps  in  any  direction  into  the  un- 
trodden infinite.  Though  Wealth  and  Selfishness  pile 
up  their  marble  and  mortar  as  never  before,'' yet  the 
chisel,  the  pencil,  and  the  pen,  are  prostituted  to  imita- 
tion. The  artist  does  not  travel  beyond  the  actual.  At 
such  times,  the  rich  are  wealthy,  only  to  be  luxurious 
and  dissolve  the  mind  in  the  lusts  of  the  flesh.  The 
cultivated  have  skill  and  taste,  only  to  mock,  openly  or 
in  secret,  at  the  forms  of  religion  and  its  substance  also; 
to  devise  new  pleasures  for  themselves;  pursue  the 
study  of  some  abortive  science,  some  costly  game,  or 
dazzling  art.  When  the  people  sutler  for  water  and 
bread,  the  king  digs  fish-pools,  that  his  parasites  may 
fare  on  lampreys  of  unnatural  size.  Then  the  Poor  are 
trodden  down  into  the  dust.  The  Weak  bear  the  bur- 
den of  the  strong,  and  they,  who  do  all  the  work  of  the 
world,  who  spin,  and  weave,  and  delve,  and  drudge, 
who  build  the  palace,  and  supply  the  feast,  are  the  only 
imen  that  go  hungry  and  bare,  live  uncared  for,  and 
when  they  die,  are  Imddled  into  the  dirt,  with  none  to 
say  God  bless  you.  Such  periods  have  occurred  several 
times  in  the  world's  history. 

At  these  times  man  stands  in  frightful  contrast  with 
nature.  He  is  dissatisfied,  ill-fed,  and  poorly  clad; 
•while  all  nature  through,  there  is  not  an  animal,  from 
the  Mite  to  the  INIannnoth,  but  his  wants  are  met  and 
his  peace  secured  by  the  great  Author  of  all.  Man 
,knows  not  whom  to  trust,  while  the  little  creature  that 
dives  its  brief  moment  in  the  dew-drop,  which  hangs  on 
the  violet's  petal,  enjoys  perfect  tranquillity  so  long  as 
its  little  life  runs  on.     Man  is  in  doubt,  distress,  per- 


PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY.  249 

petual  trouble  ;  afraid  to  go  forward,  lest  he  go  wrong; 
fearful  of  standing  still,  lest  he  fall;  whil^the  meanest 
worm,  that  crawls  under  his  feet,  is  all  and  enjoys  all  its 
nature  allows,  and  the  stars  overhead  go  smoothly  as 
ever  on  their  way. 

At  such  times,  men  call  for  a  great  man,  who  can  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  their  race,  and  lead  them  on,  free 
from  their  troubles.  There  is  a  feeling  in  the  heart  of 
us  all,  that  as  Sin  came  oy  man,  and  Death  by  Sin,  so 
by  man,  under  Providence,  must  come  also  Salvation 
from  that  Sin,  and  Resurrection  from  that  Death.  We 
feel,  all  of  us,  that  for  every  wrong,  there  is  a  right 
somewhere,  had  we  but  the  skill  to  find  it.  This  call 
for  a  great  man  is  sometimes  long  and  loud,  before  he 
comes,  for  he  comes  not  of  man's  calling  but  of  God's 
appointment. 

This  was  the  state  of  mankind  many  centuries  ago, 
before  Jesus  was  born  at  Bethlehem.  Scarce  ever  had 
there  been  an  age,  when  a  deliverer  was  more  needed. 
The  world  was  full  of  riches.  Wealth  flowed  into  the 
cities,  a  Pactolian  tide.  Fleets  swam  the  ocean.  The 
fields  were  full  of  cattle  and  corn.  The  high-piled 
warehouse  at  Alexandria  and  Corinth  groaned  with 
the  munitions  of  luxury,  the  product  of  skilful  hands. 
Delicate  women,  the  corrupted  and  the  corrupters  of  the 
world's  metropolis,  scarce  veiled  their  limbs  in  garments 
of  gossamer,  fine  as  woven  wind.  Metals  and  precious 
stones  vied  with  each  other  to  render  Loveliness  more 
lovely,  and  Beauty  more  attractive,  or  oftener  to  stimu- 
late a  jaded  taste,  and  whip  the  senses  to  their  work. 
Nature,  with  that  exquisite  irony  men  admire  but  can- 
not imitate  —  used  the  virgin  lustre  of  the  gem,  to  reveal 
more  plain,  the  moral  ugliness  of  such  as  wore  the  gaud. 
The  very  marble  seemed  animate  to  bud  and  blossom 


250  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

into  Palace  and  Temple.  But  alas  for  man  in  those 
days!  The  Strong  have  always  known  one  part  of 
their  duty,  —  how  to  take  care  of  themselves;  and  so 
have  laid  burdens  on  weak  men's  shoulders,  but  the 
more  difficult  part,  how  to  take  care  of  the  weak,  their 
natural  clients,  they  neither  knew  nor  practised  so  well 
even  as  now.  If  the  history  of  the  Strong  is  ever  writ- 
ten, as  such,  it  will  be  the  record  of  rapine  and  murder, 
from  Cain  to  Cush,  from  Nimrod  to  Napoleon. 

In  that  age  men  cried  for  a  great  man,  and  wonder- 
ful to  tell,  the  prophetic  spirit  of  human  nature,  which 
detects  events  in  their  causes,  and  by  its  profound  faith 
in  the  invisible,  sees  both  the  cloud  and  the  star,  before 
they  come  up  to  the  horizon,  —  foretold  the  advent  of 
such  a  man.  "  An  ancient  and  settled  opinion,"  says  a 
Roman  writer,  "  had  spread  over  all  the  East,  that  it 
was  fated  at  this  time,  for  some  one  to  arise  out  of 
Judea,  and  rule  the  world.'*  We  find  this  expectation 
in  many  shapes,  psalm  and  song,  poem  and  prophecy. 
We  sometimes  say  this  prediction  was  miraculous, 
while  it  appears  rather  as  the  natural  forecast  of  hearts, 
which  believe  God  has  a  remedy  for  each  disease,  and 
balm  for  every  wound.  The  expectation  of  relief  is 
deep  and  certain  with  such,  just  as  the  evil  is  imminent 
and  dreadful.  If  it  have  lasted  long  and  spread  wide, 
men  only  look  for  a  greater  man.  This  fact  shows  how 
deep  in  the  soul  lies  that  religious  element,  which  sees 
clearest  in  the  dark,  when  understanding  cannot  see  at 
all;  which  hopes  most,  when  there  is  least  ground,  but 
most  need  of  hope.  But  men  go  too  far  in  their  expec- 
tations. Their  Faith  stinlulates  their  Fancy,  which 
foretells  what  the  deliverer  shall  be.  In  this,  men  are 
always  mistaken.  Heaven  has  endowed  the  race  of 
men  with  but  little  invention.     So  in  those  times  of 


PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY.  251 

trouble,  they  look  back  to  the  last  peril,  and  hope  for  a 
redeemer  like  him  they  had  before ;  greater  it  may  be, 
but  always  of  the  same  kind.  This  »ame  poverty  of 
invention  and  habit  of  thinking  the  future  must  repro- 
duce the  past,  appears  in  all  human  calculations.  If 
some  one  had  told  the  amanuensis  of  Julius  Ctesar,  that 
in  eighteen  centuries,  men  would  be  able  in  a  few  hours 
to  make  a  perfect  copy  of  a  book  twenty  times  as  great 
as  all  his  master's  commentaries  and  history,  he  would 
pronounce  it  impossible  ;  for  he  could  think  of  none  but 
the  old  method  of  a  Scribe  forming  each  word  with  a 
pen,  letter  by  letter ;  never  anticipating  the  modern  way 
of  printing  with  a  rolling  press  driven  by  steam.  So  if 
some  one  had  told  Joab,  that  two  thousand  years  after 
his  day,  men  in  war  would  kill  one  another  with  a  mis- 
sile half  an  ounce  in  weight,  and  would  send  it  three  or 
four  hundred  yards,  driving  it  through  a  shirt  of  mail,  or 
a  ploughshare  of  iron,  he  would  think  but  of  a  common 
bow  and  arrows,  and  say  it  cannot  be.  What  would 
Zeuxis  have  thought  of  a  portrait  made  in  thirty  seconds, 
exact  as  nature,  pencilled  by  the  Sun  himself?  Now 
men  make  mistakes  in  their  expectation  of  a  deliverer. 
The  Jews  were  once  raised  to  great  power  by  David, 
and  again  rescued  from  distress  and  restored  from  exile 
by  Cyrus,  a  great  conqueror  and  a  just  man.  Therefore 
the  next  time  they  fell  into  trouble,  they  expected  an- 
other King  like  David,  or  Cyrus,  who  should  come,  per- 
haps in  the  clouds,  with  a  great  army  to  do  much  more 
than  either  David  or  Cyrus  had  done.  This  was  the 
current  expectation,  that  when  the  Redeemer  came,  he 
should  be  a  great  general,  commander  of  an  army.  King 
of  the  Jews.  He  was  to  restore  the  exiles,  defeat  their 
foes,  and  revive  the  old  theocracy  to  which  other  nations 
should  be  subservient. 


252  PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY. 

Their  deliverer  comes  ;  but  instead  of  a  noisy  general, 
a  king  begirt  with  the  pomp  of  oriental  royalty,  there 
appears  one  of  the  lowliest  of  men.  His  Kingdom  was 
of  Truth,  and  therefore  not  of  this  world.  He  drew  no 
sword;  uttered  no  word  of  violence;  did  not  complain 
when  persecuted,  but  took  it  patiently;  did  not  exact  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth,  nor  pay  a  blow  with  a  blow,  but  loved 
men  who  hated  him.  This  conqueror,  who  was  to 
come  with  great  pomp,  perhaps  in  the  clouds,  with  an 
army  numerous  as  the  locusts,  at  whose  every  word, 
kingdoms  were  to  shake  —  appears ;  born  in  a  stable, 
of  the  humblest  extraction ;  the  companion  of  fisher- 
men, living  in  a  town,  whose  inhabitants  were  so  wick- 
ed, men  thought  nothing  good  could  come  of  it.  The 
means  he  brought  for  the  salvation  of  his  race  were 
quite  as  surprising  as  the  Saviour  himself;  not  armies 
on  earth,  or  in  heaven ;  not  even  new  tables  of  laws ; 
but  a  few  plain  directions,  copied  out  from  the  primitive 
and  eternal  Scripture  God  wrote  in  the  heart  of  man, — 
the  true  Protevangelium,  —  love  man;  love  God;  resist 
NOT  EVIL ;  ASK  AND  RECEIVE.  These  were  the  weapons 
with  which  to  pluck  the  oppressor  down  from  his  throne; 
to  destroy  the  conquerors  of  the  world ;  dislodge  sin 
from  high  places  and  low  places;  uplift  the  degraded, 
and  give  weary  and  desperate  human  nature  a  fresh 
start!  How  disappointed  men  would  have  looked, 
could  it  have  been  made  clear  to  them,  that  this  was 
now  the  only  deliverer  Heaven  was  sending  to  their 
rescue.  But  this  could  not  be ;  their  recollection  of 
past  deliverance,  and  their  prejudice  of  the  future  based 
on  this  recollection,  blinded  their  eyes.  They  said, 
"  This  is  not  he;  when  the  Christ  cometh  no  man  shall 
know  whence  he  is.  But  we  know  this  is  the  Nazarene 
carpenter,  the  Son  of  Joseph  and  Mary."     Men  treated 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  253 

this  greatest  of  Saviours  as  his  humble  brothers  had 
always  been  treated.  Even  his  discijDles  were  not  faith- 
ful ;  one  betrayed  him  with  a  kiss ;  the^^rest  forsook  him 
and  fled;  his  enemies  put  him  to  death,  adding  igno- 
miny to  their  torture,  and  little  thinking  this  was  the 
most  efTectual  way  to  bring  about  the  end  he  sought, 
and  scatter  the  seed,  whence  the  whole  race  was  to  be 
blessed  for  many  a  thousand  years. 

There  is  scarce  any  thing  in  nature  more  astonishing- 
to  a  reflective  mind,  than  the  influence  of  one  man's 
thought  and  feeling  over  another,  and  on  thousands  of 
his  fellows.  There  are  few  voices  in  the  world,  but 
many  echoes,  and  so  the  history  of  the  world  is  chiefly 
the  rise  and  progress  of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  & 
few  great  men.  Let  a  man's  outward  position  be  what 
it  may,  that  of  a  Slave  or  a  King,  or  an  apparent  idler 
in  a  busy  Metropolis,  if  he  have  more  Wisdom,  Love^ 
and  Religion,  than  any  of  his  fellow-mortals,  their 
Mind,  Heart,  and  Soul  are  put  in  motion  even  against 
their  will,  and  they  cannot  stand  where  they  stood  be- 
fore, though  they  close  their  eyes  never  so  stiflfly.  The 
general  rule  holds  doubly  strong  in  this  particular  case. 
This  poor  Galilean  peasant,  son  of  the  humblest  people, 
born  in  an  ox's  crib  ;  who  at  his  best  estate  had  not 
where  to  lay  his  head ;  who  passed  for  a  fanatic  with 
his  townsmen,  and  even  with  his  brothers, —  children  of 
the  same  parents;  —  who  was  reckoned  a  lunatic  —  a 
very  madman,  or  counted  as  one  possessed  of  a  devil, 
by  grave,  respectable  folk  about  Jerusalem  ;  who  was 
put  to  death  as  a  Rebel  and  Blasphemer  at  the  instance 
of  Pharisees,  the  High-priest,  and  other  sacerdotal  func- 
tionaries—  he  stirred  men's  mind,  heart,  and  soul,  as 
none  before  nor  since  has  done,  and  produced  a  revolu- 

22 


254  PRIMITIVE    CimiSTIANITy. 

tion  in  human  affairs,  wliich  is  even  now  greater  than 
all  other  revolutions,  though  it  has  hitherto  done  but  a 
little  of  its  work. 

He  looked  trustfully  up  to  the  Father  of  all.  Because 
he  was  faithful  God  inspired  him,  till  his  judgment,  in 
religious  matters,  seems  to  have  become  certain  as  in- 
stinct, infallible  as  the  law  of  gravitation,  and  his  will 
irresistible,  because  it  was  no  longer  partial,  but  God's 
will  flowing  through  him.  He  gave  voice  to  the  new 
thought  which  streamed  on  him,  asking  no  question 
whether  Moses  or  Solomon,  in  old  time,  had  thought  as 
he ;  nor  whether  Gamaliel  and  Herod  would  vouch  for 
the  doctrine  now.  He  felt  that  in  him  was  something 
greater  than  Moses  or  Solomon,  and  he  did  not,  as 
many  have  done,  dishonor  the  greater,  to  make  a  solemn 
mockery  of  serving  the  less.  He  spoke  what  he  felt, 
fearless  as  Truth.  He  lived  in  blameless  obedience  to 
his  sentiment  and  his  principle.  With  him  there  was 
no  great  gulf  between  Thought  and  Action,  Duty  and 
Life.  If  he  saw  Sin  in  the  land,  —  and  when  or  where 
could  he  look  and  not  see  that  last  of  the  giants  ? —  he 
gave  warning  to  all  who  would  listen.  Before  the 
single  eye  of  this  man,  still  a  youth,  the  reverend  vails 
fell  off  from  antiquated  falsehood ;  the  looped  and 
windowed  livery  of  Abraham  dropped  from  recreant 
limbs,  and  the  child  of  the  Devil  stood  there,  naked  but 
not  unshamed.  He  saw  that  blind  men,  the  leaders 
and  the  led,  were  hastening  to  the  same  ditch.  Well 
might  he  weep  for  the  slain  of  his  people,  and  cry,  "  Oh 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem !  "  Few  heard  his  cries,  for  it 
seems  fated,  that  when  the  Son  of  Man  comes  he  shall 
not  find  faith  on  the  Earth.  Pity  alike  for  the  oppressed 
and  the  oppressor,  —  and  a  boundless  love,  even  for  the 
unthankful  and  the  merciless,  burned  in  his  breast,  and 


PRIMITIVE    CnRISTIANITT.  2-55 

shed  their  light  and  warmth  wherever  he  turned  his  face. 
His  thought  was  heavenly ;  his  life  only  revealed  his 
thought.  His  soul,  appeared  in  his  »'ords,  on  which 
multitudes  were  fed.  Prejudice  itself  confessed  —  "never 
man  spake  like  this."  His  feeling  and  his  thought  as- 
sumed a  form  more  beauteous  still,  and  a  whole  divine 
life  was  ^^TOught  out  on  the  earth,  and  stands  there  yet, 
the  imperishable  type  of  human  achievement,  the  de- 
spair of  the  superstitious,  but  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and 
the  Life  to  holy  souls.  His  word  of  doctrine  was  uttered 
gently  as  the  invisible  dew  comes  down  on  the  rose  of 
Engaddi,  but  it  told  as  if  a  thunderbolt  smote  the  globe. 
It  brought  fire  and  sword  to  the  dwelling-place  of  hoary 
Sin.  Truth  sweeps  clean  off  every  refuge  of  lies,  that 
she  may  do  her  entire  work. 

A  few  instances  show^  how  these  words  A\Tought  in 
the  world.  The  sons  of  Zebedee  were  so  ambitious 
they  would  arrogate  to  themselves  the  first  place  in  the 
new  kingdom,  thinking  it  a  realm  where  selfishness 
should  hold  dominion,  —  so  bloody-minded,  they  would 
call  down  fire  from  Heaven  to  burn  up  such  men  as 
would  not  receive  the  Teacher.  But  the  Spirit  of  gen- 
tleness subdues  the  selfish  passion,  and  the  son  of  thun- 
der becomes  the  gentle  John,  who  says  only,  "  Little 
children,  love  one  another."  This  same  word  passes 
into  Simon  Peter  also,  the  crafty,  subtle,  hasty,  selfish 
son  of  Jonas;  the  first  to  declare  the  Christ;  the  first 
to  promise  fidelity,  but  the  first  likewise  to  deny  him, 
and  the  first  to  return  to  his  fishing.  It  carries  this  dis- 
ciple—  though  perhaps  never  wholly  regenerated  —  all 
over  the  Eastern  world;  and  he,  who  had  shrunk  from 
the  fear  of  persecution,  now  glories  therein,  and  counts 
it  all  joy,  when  he  falls  into  trouble  on  account  of  the 
word.     With  Joseph  of  Arimathea  "an  honorable  coun- 


256  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

seller,"  and  Nicodemus  "  a  ruler  of  the  Jews,"  the  matter 
took  another  turn.  We  never  hear  of  them  in  the  his- 
tory of  trial.  They  slunk  back  into  the  Synagogue,  it 
may  be ;  wore  garments  long  as  before,  and  phylacteries 
of  the  broadest ;  were  called  of  men  "  Rabbi,"  "  sound, 
honorable  men,  who  knew  what  they  were  about,"  "  men 
not  to  be  taken  in."  It  is  not  of  such  men  God  makes 
Reformers,  Apostles,  Prophets.  It  is  not  for  such  pusil- 
lanimous characters,  to  plunge  into  the  cold,  hard  stream 
of  Truth,  as  it  breaks  out  of  the  mountain  and  falls 
from  the  rock  of  ages.  They  wait  till  the  stream 
widens  to  a  river,  the  river  expands  its  accumulated 
waters  to  a  lake,  quiet  as  a  mirror.  Then  they  confide 
themselves  in  their  delicate  and  trim-wrought  skiff  to  its 
silvery  bosom,  to  be  wafted  by  gentle  winds  into  a  quiet 
haven  of  repose.  Such  men  do  not  take  up  Truth, 
when  she  has  fallen  by  the  way-side.  It  might  grieve 
their  friends.  It  would  compromise  their  interests ; 
would  not  allow  them  to  take  their  ease  in  their  inn,  for 
such  they  regard  their  station  in  the  world.  Besides, 
the  thing  was  new.  How  could  Joseph  and  Nicodemus 
foretell  it  would  prevail?  It  might  lead  to  disturbance; 
its  friends  fall  into  trouble.  The  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
offered  no  safe  "investment"  for  ease  and  reputation, 
as  now.  Doubtless  there  were  in  Jerusalem  great  ques- 
tionings of  heart  among  Pharisees,  and  respectable 
men.  Scribes  and  Doctors  of  the  law,  when  they  heard 
of  the  new  teacher  and  his  doctrine  so  deep  and  plain. 
There  must  have  been  a  severe  struggle  in  many 
bosoms,  between  the  conviction  of  duty  and  social  sym- 
pathies which  bound  the  man  to  what  was  most  cher- 
ished by  flesh  and  blood. 

The  beautiful  Cios])el  foniul  few  adherents  and  little 
toleration  with  men  learned  in  the  law,  burdened  with 


PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY.  257 

its  minute  intricacies,  devoted  to  the  mighty  considera- 
tion of  small  particulars.  But  the  true  disciples  of  the 
inward  life  felt  the  word,  which  others  only  listened  for, 
and  they  could  not  hush  up  the  matter.  It  would  not 
be  still.  So  they  took  up  the  ark  of  truth,  where  Jesus 
set  it  down,  and  bore  it  on.  They  perilled  their  lives. 
They  left  all  —  comfort,  friends,  home,  wife,  the  em- 
braces of  their  children  —  the  most  precious  comfort  the 
poor  man  gets  out  of  the  cold,  hard  world ;  they  went 
naked  and  hungry;  were  stoned  and  spit  upon;  scourged 
in  the  synagogues ;  separated  from  the  company  of  the 
sons  of  Abraham ;  called  the  vilest  of  names ;  counted 
as  the  offscouring  of  the  world.  But  it  did  them  good. 
This  was  the  sifting  Satan  gave  the  disciples,  and  the 
chaff  went  its  way,  as  chaff  always  does;  but  the  seed- 
wheat  fell  into  good  ground,  and  noAV  nations  are  filled 
with  bread  which  comes  of  the  Apostles'  sowing  and 
watering,  and  God  giving  the  increase. 

To  some  men  the  spread  of  Christianity  in  two  cen- 
turies appears  wonderful.  To  others  it  is  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world.  It  could  not  help  spreading. 
Things  most  needful  to  all  are  the  easiest  to  compre- 
hend, the  world  over.  Thus  every  savage  in  Otaheite 
knows  there  is  a  God;  while  only  four  or  five  men  in 
Christendom  understand  his  nature,  essence,  personality, 
and  "know  all  about  Him  I"  Thus  while  the  great 
work  of  a  modern  scholar,  which  explains  the  laws  of 
the  material  heavens,  has  never  probably  been  mastered 
by  three  hundred  persons,  and  perhaps  there  is  not  now 
on  earth  half  that  number,  who  can  read  and  understand 
it,  without  further  preparation ;  the  Gospel,  the  word  of 
Jesus,  which  sets  forth  the  laws  of  the  soul,  can  be  un- 
derstood by  any  pious  girl  fourteen  years  old,  of  ordi- 

22* 


258  PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY. 

nary  intelligence,  with  no  special  preparation  at  all,  and 
still  forms  the  daily  bread,  and  very  life  of  whole  mil- 
lions of  men. 

Primitive  Christianity  was  a  very  simple  thing,  apart 
from  the  individual  errors  connected  with  it;  two  great 
speculative  maxims  set  forth  its  essential  doctrines, 
"  Love  man,"  and  "  Love  God."  It  had  also  two  great 
practical  maxims,  which  grew  out  of  the  speculative, 
"  We  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  burdens  of  the 
weak,"  and  "  We  must  give  good  for  evil."  These 
maxims  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  Apostles'  minds,  and 
the  top  of  their  hearts.  These  explain  their  conduct; 
account  for  their  courage ;  give  us  the  reason  of  their 
faith,  their  strength,  their  success.  The  proclaimers  of 
these  maxims  set  forth  the  life  of  a  man  in  perfect  con- 
formity therewith.  If  their  own  practice  fell  short  of 
their  preaching,  —  which  sometimes  happens  spite  of 
their  zeal,  —  there  was  the  measure  of  a  perfect  man,  to 
which  they  had  not  attained,  but  which  lay  in  their 
future  progress.  Other  matters  which  they  preached, 
that  there  was  one  God;  that  the  soul  never  dies,  were 
known  well  enough  before,  and  old  heathens,  in  cen- 
turies gone  by,  had  taught  these  doctrines  quite  as  dis- 
tinctly as  the  apostles,  and  the  latter  much  more  plainly 
than  the  Gospels.  These  new  teachers  had  certain 
other  doctrines  peculiar  to  themselves,  which  hindered 
the  course  of  truth  more  than  they  helped  it,  and  which 
have  perished  with  their  authors. 

No  wonder  the  apostles  prevailed  with  such  doctrines, 
set  off  or  recommended  by  a  life,  whicii  —  notwithstand- 
ing occasional  errors  —  was  single-hearted,  lofty,  full  of 
self-denial  and  sincere  manliness,  "AH  men  are  broth- 
ers," said  the  Apostles;  "their  duty  is  to  keep  the  law 
God  wrote  eternally  on  tiie  heart,  to  keep  this  without 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  259 

fear."  The  forms  and  rites  they  made  use  of;  their 
love-feasts,  and  Lord's  Suppers;  their  baptismal  and 
funeral  ceremonies,  were  things  indifferent,  of  no  value, 
save  only  as  helps.  Like  the  cloak  Paul  left  behind  at 
Troas,  and  the  fishing-coat  of  Simon  Peter,  they  v^'^ere 
to  serve  their  turn,  and  then  be  laid  aside.  They  were 
no  more  to  be  perpetual,  than  the  sheepskins  and  goat- 
skins, which  likewise  have  apostolical  authority  in  favor 
of  their  use.  In  an  age  of  many  forms,  Christianity 
fell  in  with  the  times.  It  wore  a  Jewish  dress  at  Jeru- 
salem, and  a  Grecian  costume  at  Thessalonica.  It  be- 
came all  things  to  all  men.  Some  rites  of  the  early 
Church  seem  absurd  as  many  of  the  latter;  but  all  had 
a  meaning  once,  or  they  would  not  have  been.  Men  of 
New  England  would  scarce  be  willing  to  worship  as 
Barnabas  and  Clement  did ;  nor  could  Bartholomew 
and  Philip  be  satisfied  with  our  simpler  form  it  is  possi- 
ble. Each  age  of  the  world  has  its  own  way,  which 
the  next  smiles  at  as  ridiculous.  Still  the  four  maxims, 
mentioned  above,  give  the  spirit  of  primitive  Christian- 
ity, the  life  of  the  Apostle's  life. 

It  is  not  marvellous  these  men  were  reckoned  unsafe 
persons.  Nothing  in  the  world  is  so  dangerous  and  un- 
tractable  in  a  false  state  of  society,  as  one  who  loves 
man  and  God.  You  cannot  silence  him  by  threat  or 
torture  ;  nor  scare  him  with  any  fear.  Set  in  the  stocks 
to-day,  he  harangues  men  in  public  to-morrow.  "  Herod 
will  kill  thee,"  says  one.  "  Go  and  tell  that  fox,  behold 
I  cast  out  devils,  and  deceivers  to-day  and  to-morrow, 
and  the  third  day  I  shall  be  perfected,"  is  the  reply. 
Burn  or  behead  such  men,  and  out  of  their  blood,  and 
out  of  their  ashes,  there  spring  up  others,  who  defy  you  to 
count  them,  and  say,  "  come,  kill  us,  if  you  list,  we  shall 
never  be  silent."     Love  begets  love,  the  world  over,  and 


260  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

martyrdom  makes  converts  certain  as  steel  sparks,  when 
smitten  against  the  flint.  If  a  fire  is  to  burn  in  the 
woods  —  let  it  be  blown  upon. 

Primitive  Christianity  did  not  owe  its  spread  to  the 
address  of  its  early  converts.  They  boast  of  this  fact. 
The  Apostles,  who  held  these  four  maxims,  were  plain 
men;  very  rough  Galilean  fishermen;  rude  in  speech, 
and  not  over  courteous  in  address,  if  we  may  credit  the 
epistles  of  Paul  and  James.  They  had  incorrect  notions 
in  many  points,  which  both  we  and  they  deem  vital. 
Some  of  them  —  perhaps  all  —  expected  a  resurrection 
of  the  body ;  others,  that  the  Jewish  law,  with  its  bur- 
densome rites  and  ostentatious  ceremonies,  was  to  be 
perpetual,  binding  on  all  Christians  and  the  human 
race.  Some  fancied  —  as  it  appears — that  Jesus  had 
expiated  the  sins  of  all  mankind ;  others  that  he  had 
existed  before  he  was  born  into  this  world.  These 
were  doctrines  of  Jewish  and  Heathen  parentage.  AH 
of  these  men  —  so  far  as  the  New  Testament  enables 
us  to  judge  —  looked  for  the  visible  return  of  Jesus  to 
the  earth,  with  clouds  and  great  glory,  and  expected  the 
destruction  of  the  world,  and  that  in  very  few  years. 
These  facts  are  very  plain  to  all,  who  will  read  the 
epistles  and  gospels,  in  spite  of  the  dust  which  inter- 
preters cast  in  the  eyes  of  common  sense.  Some 
apocryphal  works,  perhaps  older  than  the  canonical, 
certainly  accepted  as  authentic  in  some  of  the  early 
churches,  relate  the  strangest  marvels  about  the  doings 
and  sayings  of  Jesus,  designing  thereby  to  exhibit  the 
irreatness  of  his  character,  while  they  show  how  little 
that  was  understood.  We  all  know  what  the  canonical 
writings  contain  on  this  head,  and  from  these  two 
sources  can  derive  much  information,  as  to  the  state  of 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  261 

opinion  among  the  apostles  and  their  immediate  suc- 
cessors. Simon  Peter,  notwithstanding  his  visions, 
seems  always  to  have  been  in  bondage  to  the  law  of 
sin  and  death,  if  we  may  trust  Paul's  statement  in  the 
epistle;  James  —  if  the  letter  be  his  —  had  irrational 
notions  on  some  points,  and  even  Paul,  the  largest- 
minded  of  them  all,  was  not  disposed  to  allow  woman 
the  rights,  which  Reason  claims  for  the  last  creation  of 
God.  Bat  what  if  these  men  were  often  mistaken,  and 
sometimes  on  matters  of  great  moment?  We  need 
not  deny  the  fact,  for  the  sake  of  an  artificial  theory 
snatched  out  of  the  air.  It  is  not  expedient  to  lie  in 
behalf  of  truth,  however  common  it  has  been.  We 
need  not  fear  Christianity  shall  fall,  because  Christians 
were  mistaken  in  any  age.  Were  human  beings  ever 
free  from  errors  of  opinion ;  imperfection  in  action  ? 
Has  the  nature  of  things  changed,  and  did  the  earth 
bring  forth  superhuman  men  in  the  first  century  ?  It 
does  not  appear.  But  underneath  these  mistakes, 
errors,  follies,  of  the  Primitive  Christians,  there  beat 
the  noble  heart  of  religious  love,  which  sent  life  into 
their  every  limb.  These  maxims,  they  had  learned 
from  Jesus,  seen  exhibited  in  his  life,  found  written  on 
their  heart,  —  these  did  the  work,  spite  of  the  imperfec- 
tion and  passions  of  the  apostles,  Paul  withstanding 
Peter  to  the  face,  and  predicting  events  that  never  came 
to  pass.  The  nobleness  of  the  heart  found  its  way  up 
to  the  head,  and  neutralized  errors  of  thought. 

By  means  of  these  causes  the  doctrines  spread.  The 
expecting  people  felt  their  deliverer  had  come,  and  wel- 
comed the  glad  tidings.  Each  year  brought  new  con- 
verts to  the  work,  and  the  zeal  of  the  Christian  burnt 
brighter  with  his  success.  Paul  undertook  many  mis- 
sions, and  the  word  of  God   grew  mightily  and  pre- 


262  PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITT. 

vailed.  In  him  we  see  a  striking  instance  of  the  power 
of  real  Christianity  to  recast  the  character.  We  can- 
not forbear  to  dwell  a  moment  on  the  theme. 

There  are  two  classes  of  men,  who  come  to  Religion. 
Some  seem  to  be  born  spiritual.  They  are  aboriginal 
saints;  natives  of  Heaven,  whom  accident  has  stranded 
on  the  earth  ;  men  of  few  passions,  of  no  tendency  to 
violence,  anger,  or  excess  in  any  thing.  They  do  not 
hesitate,  between  right  and  wrong,  but  go  the  true  way 
as  naturally  as  the  bird  takes  to  the  air,  and  the  fish  to 
the  water,  because  it  is  their  natural  element,  and  they 
cannot  help  it.  Reason  and  Religion  seem  to  be 
coeval.  Their  Christianity  and  their  consciousness  are 
of  the  same  date.  Desire  and  Duty,  putting  in  the 
warp  and  woof,  weave  harmoniously,  like  sisters,  the 
many-colored  web  of  life.  To  these  men  life  is  easy; 
it  is  not  that  long  warfare  which  it  is  to  so  many. 
It  costs  them  nothing  to  be  good.  Their  desires  are 
dutiful ;  their  duties  desirable.  They  have  no  virtue, 
which  implies  struggle.  They  are  goodness  all  over, 
which  is  the  harmony  of  all  the  powers.  Their  action 
is  their  repose  ;  their  religion  their  self-indulgence ;  their 
daily  life  the  most  perfect  worship.  Say  what  we  will 
of  the  world,  these  men,  who  are  angels  born,  are  hap- 
pier in  their  lot  than  such  as  are  only  angels  bred,  whose 
religion  is  not  a  matter  of  birth  but  of  hard  earnings. 
They  start  in  their  flight  to  Heaven  from  an  eminence, 
which  other  souls  find  it  arduous  to  attain,  and  roll 
down,  like  the  stone  of  Sisyphus,  many  times  in  the 
perilous  ascent.  Paul  was  not  born  of  this  nobility  of 
Heaven. 

The  other  class  are  nien  of  will ;  hard,  iron  men,  who 
have  passions  and  doubts  and  fears,  and  a  whole  legion 


PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY.  263 

of  appetites  in  their  bosom,  but  yet  come  armed  with  a 
strong  sense  of  duty,  a  masculine  intellect,  a  tendency 
upwards  towards  God,  a  great  heart  of  flesh,  contract- 
ing and  expanding  between  self-love,  and  love  of  man. 
These  are  the  men  who  feel  the  puzzle  of  the  world, 
and  are  taken  with  its  fever;  stout-hearted,  strong- 
headed  men,  who  love  strongly  and  hate  with  violence, 
and  do  with  their  might  whatever  they  do  at  all.  These 
are  the  men  that  make  the  heroes  of  the  world.  They 
break  the  way  in  Philosophy  and  Science;  they  found 
colonies;  lead  armies;  make  laws;  construct  systems 
of  theology ;  form  sects  in  the  Church ;  a  yoke  of  iron 
will  not  hold  them,  nor  that  of  public  opinion,  more 
difficult  to  break.  When  these  men  become  religious, 
they  are  beautiful  as  angels.  The  fire  of  God  falls  on 
them ;  it  consumes  their  dross ;  the  uncorrupted  gold 
remains  in  virgin  purity.  Once  filled  with  religion, 
their  zeal  never  cools.  You  shall  not  daunt  them  with 
the  hissing  of  the  great  and  learned;  nor  scare  them 
with  the  roar  of  the  street,  or  the  armies  of  a  king.  To 
these  men  the  axe  of  the  headsman,  yes,  all  the  tortures 
malice  can  devise  or  tyranny  inflict,  are  as  nothing. 
The  resolute  soul  puts  down  the  flesh,  and  finds  in 
embers  a  bed  of  roses.  To  this  class  belonged  Paul,  a 
man  evidently  quick  to  see,  stern  to  resolve,  and  im- 
movable in  executing ;  a  man  of  iron  will,  that  nothing 
could  break  down  ;  of  strong  moral  sense,  deep  religious 
faith,  and  a  singular  greatness  of  heart  towards  his  fel- 
low men ;  but  yet  furnished  with  an  overpowering 
energy  of  passion,  which  might  warp  his  moral  sense 
his  faith,  his  philanthropy  aside,  and  make  him  a  bigot 
the  slave  of  superstition,  a  fanatic,  perverse  as  Loyola 
and  desperate  as  Saint  Dominic.  In  him  the  good  and 
the  evil  of  the  old  dispensation  seemed  to  culminate 


264  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

for  he  had  all  the  piety  of  David,  which  charms  us  in 
the  she|)herd-Psalm  ;  all  the  diabolic  hatred,  which  ap- 
pears in  the  curses  of  that  king,  who  was  so  wondrous 
a  mixture  of  heaven,  earth,  and  hell.  In  addition  to 
this  natural  character,  Paul  received  a  Jewish  educa- 
tion, at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  —  a  Pharisee  of  the 
straitest  sect.  His  earlier  life  at  Tarsus  brought  him 
in  contact  with  the  Greeks,  intensifying  his  bigotry  for 
the  time,  but  yet  facilitating  his  escape  from  the 
shackles  of  a  worn-out  ritual. 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  the  doctrines  of  Jesus  would 
strike  the  young  Pharisee,  fresh  from  the  study  of  the 
law.  Christianity  set  aside  all  he  valued  most ;  struck 
down  the  law  ;  held  the  prophets  of  small  account;  put 
off  the  ritual ;  declared  the  temple  no  better  place  to 
pray  in  than  a  fisher's  boat ;  affirmed  all  men  to  be 
brothers,  thus  denying  the  merit  of  descent  from  Abra- 
ham, and  declared,  if  any  one  loved  God  and  man  he 
should  have  treasure  in  Heaven,  and  inspiration  while 
on  earth.  No  wonder  the  old  Pharisee  whose  soul  was 
caught  in  the  letter  ;  no  wonder  the  young  Pharisee 
accustomed  to  swear  by  the  old,  felt  pricked  in  their 
hearts  and  gnashed  with  their  teeth.  It  is  a  hard  thing, 
no  doubt,  for  men,  wiio  count  themselves  children  of 
Abraham,  to  be  proved  children  of  a  very  different 
stock,  dutiful  sons  of  the  great  father  of  lies.  It  is 
easy  to  fancy  what  Paul  would  think  of  the  arrogance 
of  the  new  teacher,  to  call  himself  greater  than  Solo- 
mon, or  Jonah,  and  profess  to  see  deeper  down  than  the 
Law  ever  went;  what  of  the  presumption  of  the  dis- 
ciples, "  unlearned  and  ignorant  men,"  to  pretend  to 
teach  doctrines  wiser  than  Moses,  when  they  could  not 
read  the  letter  of  his  word.  It  is  no  wonder  he  breath- 
ed out  fire  and  slaughter,  and  "  persecuted  them  even 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  265 

unto  strange  cities."  But  it  is  dangerous  to  go  too  far 
in  pursuit  of  heretical  game.  Men  sometimes  rouse  up 
a  lion,  wiien  they  look  for  a  linnet,  and  the  eater  is  him- 
self eaten.  But  Paul  had  a  good  conscience  in  this. 
He  believed  what  came  of  the  fathers,  never  applying 
common  sense  to  his  theology,  nor  asking  if  these  things 
be  so.  He  thought  he  did  God  service  by  debasing 
His  image,  and  helping  to  stone  Stephen.  At  length 
he  becomes  a  Christian  in  thought.  We  know  not  how 
the  change  took  place.  Perhaps  he  thought  it  mirac- 
ulous, for,  in  common  with  most  of  his  times  and  coun- 
try, he  never  drew  a  sharp  line  between  the  common 
and  the  supernatural.  He  seems  often  to  have  dwelt  in 
that  cloudy  land,  where  all  things  have  a  strange  and 
marvellous  aspect. 

A  later  contemporary  of  Paul  relates  some  of  the 
most  remarkable  events,  as  he  deemed  them,  which  oc- 
curred in  those  times.  He  gives  occasionally  minute 
details  of  the  superstition,  crime,  and  madness  of  the 
emperors  of  Rome.  But  the  most  remarkable  event, 
which  occurred  for  some  centuries  after  Tiberius,  he 
never  speaks  of.  Probably  he  knew  nothing  of  it.  Had 
he  heard  thereof,  it  would  have  seemed  inconsiderable 
to  this  chronicler  of  imperial  follies.  But  the  journey 
from  Jerusalem  to  Damascus  of  a  young  man  named 
Saul  —  if  we  regard  its  cause  and  its  consequences,  was 
a  more  wonderful  event  than  the  world  saw  for  the  next 
thousand  years.  Men  thought  little  of  its  result  at  the 
time.  The  gossips  of  the  day  had  specious  reasons,  no 
doubt,  for  Paul's  sudden  conversion,  and  said  he  was 
disappointed  of  preferment  in  the  old  state  of  tWings,  and 
hoped  for  an  easy  living  in  the  new;  that  he  loved  the 
distinction  and  notoriety  the  change  would  give  him,  and 

23 


266  PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY. 

hoped  also  for  the  loaves  and  fishes,  then  so  abundant 
in  tiie  new  church.  Doubtless  there  were  some  who 
said,  "  Paul  is  beside  himself."  But  King  Herod  Agrip- 
pa  took  no  notice  of  the  matter.  He  was  too  busy  with 
his  dreams  of  ambition  and  lust,  to  heed  what  befell  a 
tent-maker  from  a  Cilician  city,  in  his  journey  from  Je- 
rusalem to  Damascus.  Yet  from  that  time  the  history 
of  the  world  turns  on  this  point.  If  Paul  had  not  been 
raised  up  by  the  Almighty,  for  this  very  work,  so  to  say 
—  who  shall  tell  us  how  long  Christianity  would  have 
lain  concealed  under  the  Jewish  prejudice  of  its  earlier 
disciples?  These  things  are  for  no  mortal  to  discover. 
But  certain  it  is  that  Paul  found  the  Christians  an  ob- 
scure Jewish  sect,  full  of  zeal  and  love,  but  narrow  and 
bigoted,  in  bondage  to  the  letter  of  old  Hebrew  instilu- 
tions  ;  but  he  left  them  a  powerful  band  in  all  great 
cities,  free  men  by  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life.  It  seems 
doubtful,  that  Peter,  James,  or  John  would  have  given 
Christianity  its  natural  form  of  universal  faith.     , 

There  must  have  been  a  desperate  struggle  before 
Paul  became  a  Christian.  He  must  renounce  all  the 
prejudices  of  the  Jew  and  the  Pharisee,  and  the  idols  of 
the  Tribe  and  the  Den  are  the  last  a  man  gives  up. 
He  must  be  abandoned  by  his  friends,  the  wise,  the 
learned,  the  venerable.  Few  men  know  of  the  battle 
between  new  convictions  and  old  social  sympathies  ;  but 
it  is  of  the  severest  character;  a  war  of  extermination. 
He  must  condemn  all  his  past  conduct;  lose  the  repu- 
tation of  consistency;  leave  all  the  comforts  of  society, 
all  chance  of  reputation  among  men ;  be  counted  as  a 
thief  and  murderer  ;  perhaps  be  put  to  death.  But  the 
truth  coliquered.  We  think  it  easy  to  decide  as  Paul, 
forgetting  that  many  things  become  plain  after  tiie  re- 
sult, which  were  dim  and  doubtful  before. 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  26T 

When  the  young  man  had  decided  in  favor  of  Chris- 
tianity, he  would  require   some  instruction  in  matters^ 
pertaining  to  the  heavenly  doctrine,  we  should  suppose,. 
—  taking  the  popular  views  of  Christianity,  which  make 
it  an  historical  thing,  depending  on  personal  authority, 
or  eye-witness,  and  external  events,  as  the  only  possible 
proof  of  internal  truths.     He  would  go  and  sit  down 
with  the  twelve  and  listen  to  their  talk,  and  learn  of  all  the. 
miracles,  how  Jesus  raised  the  young  man,  the  maiden,, 
called   Lazarus  from  the  tomb;  how  he  changed  the- 
water  into  wine,  and  fed  the  five  thousand  ;  he  would 
go  to  Martha  and  Mary  to  learn  the  recondite  doctrine 
of  the  Saviour ;  to  the  Mother  of  Jesus,  to  inquire  about 
his  birth  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     But  the  thing  went  differ- 
ent.    He  did  not  go  to  Peter,  the  chief  apostle  ;  nor  to 
John,  the  beloved  disciple  ;  nor  James,  the  Lord's  brother.. 
"  I  conferred  not  with  flesh  and  blood,"  says  the  new 
convert,  "neither  went  I  up  to  Jerusalem  to  them  that 
were  apostles  before  me ;  but  I  went  into  Arabia."    Three 
years  afterwards,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  an  interview, 
with  Peter  and  James.     Fourteen  years  later  he  went 
up  to   Jerusalem,  to   compare   notes,  as  it  were,  with 
those  "  who  seemed  to  be  somewhat."     They  could  tell 
him  nothing  new.     At  last —  many  years  after  the  com- 
mencement of  his  active  ministry  —  James,  Peter,  and.- 
John,  give  him  the  right  hand  of  their  fellowship.     Paul, 
it  seems,  had  heard  of  the  great  doctrines  of  Jesus,  and, 
out  of  their  principles  developed  his  scheme  of  Chris-- 
tianity,  —  not  a  very  difficult  task,  one  would  fancy,  for 
a  plain  man,  who  reckoned  Christianity  was  love  of  man, 
and  love  of  God.     In  those  days  the  Gospels  w^ere  not 
written,  nor  yet  the  Epistles.     Christianity  had  no  his- 
tory, except  that  Jesus  lived,  preached,  \vas  crucified,, 
and  appeared  after  his  crucifixion.     Therefore  the  gos- 


268  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

pel  Paul  preached  might  well  enough  be  different  from 
those  now  in  our  hands.  Certainly  Paul  never  men- 
tions a  miracle  of  Jesus  ;  says  nothing  of  his  superhu- 
man birth.  Had  he  known  of  these  things,  a  man  of 
his  strong  love  of  the  marvellous  would  scarcely  be  si- 
lent. 

In  him  primitive  Christianity  appears  to  the  great- 
est advantage.  It  shone  in  his  heart,  like  the  rising 
sun  chasing  away  the  mist  and  clouds  of  night.  His 
prejudices  went  first;  his  passions  next.  Soon  he  is  on 
foot  journeying  the  world  over  to  proclaim  the  faith, 
which  once  he  destroyed.  Where  are  his  bigotry,  prej- 
udice, hatred,  his  idols  of  the  Tribe  and  the  Den  ?  The 
flame  of  Religion  has  consumed  them  all.  Forth  he 
goes  to  the  work ;  the  strong  passion,  the  unconquer- 
able w^ill  are  now  directed  in  the  same  channel  with  his 
love  of  man.  His  mighty  soul  wars  with  Heathenism, 
declaring  an  idol  is  nothing ;  with  Judaism,  to  announce 
that  the  Law  has  passed  away  ;  with  Folly  and  Sin,  to 
declare  them  of  the  Devil,  and  lead  men  to  Truth  and 
Peace.  The  resolute  apostle  goes  flaming  forth  in  his 
ministry.  A  soul  more  robust,  greathearted,  and  manly, 
does  not  appear  in  history,  for  some  centuries  at  the 
least.  Danger  is  nothing  ;  persecution  nothing.  It  only 
puts  the  keener  edge  on  his  well-tempered  spirit.  He  is 
content  and  joyful  at  bearing  all  the  reproaches  man  can 
lay  on  him.  There  was  nothing  sham  in  Paul.  He  felt 
what  he  said,  which  is  common  enough.  But  he  lived 
what  he  felt,  which  is  not  so  common.  What  wonder 
that  such  a  man  made  converts,  overcame  violence,  and 
helped  the  truth  to  triumph  ?  It  were  wonderful  if  he 
had  not.  Take  away  the  life  and  influence  of  Paul,  the 
Christian  world  is  a  different  thing;  we  cannot  tell  what 
it  would  have  been.     Under  his  hands,  and  those  of  his 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  269 

coadjutors,  the  new  faith  spreads  from  heart  to  heart, 
till  many  thousands  own  the  name,  and  amid  all  the 
persecution  that  follows,  the  pious  of  the  earth  celebrate 
such  a  jubilee  as  the  sun  never  saw  before. 

However  it  was  not  among  the  great  and  refined,  but 
the  low  and  the  rude,  that  the  faith  found  its  early  con- 
fessors. Men  came  up  faint  and  hungry,  from  the  high- 
ways and  hedges  of  society,  to  eat  the  bread  of  life  at 
God's  table.  They  ate  and  were  filled.  Here  it  is  that 
all  Religions  take  their  rise.  The  sublime  faith  of  the 
Hebrews  began  in  a  horde  of  slaves.  The  Christian 
has  a  carpenter  for  its  revealer ;  fishermen  for  its  first 
disciples ;  a  tent-maker  for  its  chief  apostle.  Yet  these 
men  could  stand  before  kings'  courts  —  and  Felix  trem- 
bled at  Paul's  reasoning.  Yes,  the  world  trembled  at 
such  reasoning.  And  when  whole  multitudes  gave  in 
their  adhesion;  when  the  common  means  of  tyranny, 
prisons,  racks,  and  the  cross,  failed  to  repress  "  this  de- 
testable superstition,"  as  ill-natured  Tacitus  calls  it; 
but  when  two  thousand  men  and  women,  delicate  maid- 
ens, and  men  newly  married,  come  to  the  Praetor,  and 
say,  "  We  are  Christians  all ;  kill  us  if  you  will ;  we 
cannot  change ;  "  then  for  the  first  time  official  persons 
begin  to  look  into  the  matter,  and  inquire  for  the  cause, 
which  makes  women  heroines,  and  young  men  martyrs. 
There  are  always  enough  to  join  any  folly  because  it  is 
new.  But  when  the  headsman's  axe  gleams  under  his 
apron,  or  slaves  erect  a  score  of  crosses  in  the  mar- 
ket-place, and  men  see  the  mangled  limbs  of  brothers, 
fathers,  and  sons,  huddled  into  bloody  sacks,  or  thrown 
to  the  dogs,  it  requires  some  heart  to  bear  up,  accept  a 
new  faith,  and  renounce  mortal  life. 

It  is  sometimes  asked,  what  made  so  many  converts 
23* 


270  PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY. 

to  Christianity,  under  such  fearful  circumstances?  The 
answer  depends  on  the  man.  Most  men  apply  the  uni- 
versal solvent,  and  call  it  a  miracle  —  an  overstepping 
of  the  laws  of  mind.  The  Apostles  had  miraculous 
authority ;  Peter  had  miraculous  revelations ;  Paul  a 
miraculous  conversion ;  both  visions,  and  other  miracu- 
lous assistance  all  their  life.  That  they  taught  by  mir- 
acles. But  what  could  it  be  ?  The  aulliorUtj  of  the 
teachers  ?  The  authority  of  a  Jewish  peasant  would 
not  have  passed  for  much  at  Ephesus  or  Alexandria,  or 
Lycaonia  or  Rome.  Were  they  infallibly  inspired,  so 
that  they  could  not  err,  in  doctrine,  or  practice  ?  Thus 
it  has  been  taught.  But  their  opponeiits  did  not  be- 
lieve it;  their  friends  knew  nothing  of  it,  or  there  had 
been  no  sharp  dissension  between  Paul  and  Barnabas, 
nor  any  disagreement  of  Paul  with  Peter.  They  them- 
selves seem  never  to  have  dreamed  of  such  an  infalli- 
bility, or  they  would  not  change  their  j^lans  and  doc- 
trine as  Peter  did;  nor  need  instruction  as  Titus, 
Timothy,  and  all  the  primitive  teachers,  to  whom  James 
sent  the  circular  epistle  of  the  first  synod.  If  they  had 
believed  themselves  infallibly  inspired,  they  would  not 
assemble  a  council  of  all  to  decide,  what  each  infallible 
person  coidd  determine,  as  well  as  all  the  spirits  and 
angels  together.  Still  less  could  any  discussion  arise 
among  the  apostles  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued. 
Was  it  their  learning  that  gave  them  success  ?  They 
•could  not  even  interpret  the  Psalms,  without  making 
the  most  obvious  mistakes,  as  any  one  may  see,  who 
treads  th(;  book  of  Acts.  Was  it  their  cJcxiiicnci',  their 
miraculous  gift  of  tongues?  What  was  the  elo([uence 
of  Peter,  or  James,  when  Paul,  their  chief  apostle,  was 
weak  in  bodily  |iresence,  and  contemptible  in  Pj)eech  ? 
No;  it  was  none  of  these  things.      They  had  somewhat 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  2^1 

more  convincing  than  authority;  wiser  than  learning; 
more  persuasive  than  eloquence.  Men/e/t  the  doctrine 
was  true  and  divine.  They  saw  its  truth  and  divinity 
mirrored  in  the  life  of  these  rough  men ;  they  heard  the 
voice  of  God  in  their  own  hearts  say,  it  is  true.  They 
tried  it  by  the  standard  God  has  placed  in  the  heart,  and 
it  stood  the  test.  They  saw  the  effect  it  had  on  Chris- 
tians themselves,  and  said,  "  Here  at  least  is  something 
divine,  for  men  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns."  When 
men  came  out  from  hearing  Peter  or  Paul  set  forth  the 
Christian  doctrine  and  apply  it  to  life,  they  did  not  say, 
"  what  a  moving  speaker  ;  how  beautifully  he  '  divides 
the  word ; '  how  he  mixes  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the 
roar  of  torrents,  and  the  sublimity  of  the  stars,  as  it 
were,  in  his  speech  ;  what  a  melting  voice  ;  what  grace- 
ful gestures;  what  beautiful  similes  gathered  from  all 
the  arts,  sciences,  poetry,  and  nature  herself."  It  was 
not  with  such  reflections  they  entertained  their  journey 
home.     They  said,  "  what  shall  we  do  to  be  saved  ?  " 

Primitive  Christianity  was  a  wonderful  element,  as  it 
came  into  the  world.  Like  a  twoedged  sword,  it  cut 
down  through  all  the  follies  and  falseness  of  four  thou- 
sand years.  It  acknowledged  what  was  good  and  true 
in  all  systems,  and  sought  to  show  its  own  agreement 
with  goodness  and  truth,  wherever  found.  It  told  men 
what  they  were.  It  bade  them  hope,  look  upon  the 
light,  and  aspire  after  the  most  noble  end  —  to  be  com- 
plete men,  to  be  reconciled  to  the  will  of  God,  and  so 
become  one  with  him.  It  gave  the  world  assurance  of 
a  man,  by  showing  one  whose  life  was  beautiful  as  his 
doctrine,  and  that  combined  all  the  excellence  of  all  for- 
mer teachers,  and  went  before  the  world,  thousands  of 
years.     It   told  men    there  was   one    God  —  who    had 


272  PRIMITIVE   CHRISTIANITY. 

made  of  one  blood  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  was 
a  Father  to  each  man.  It  showed  that  all  men  are 
brothers.  Believing  in  these  doctrines  ;  seeing  the  great- 
ness of  man's  nature  in  the  very  ruin  sin  had  wrought; 
filled  with  the  beauty  of  a  good  life,  the  comforting 
thought,  that  God  is  always  near,  and  ready  to  help,  no 
wonder  men  felt  moved  in  their  heart.  The  life  of  the 
apostles  and  early  Christians,  the  self-denial  they  prac- 
tised, their  readiness  to  endure  persecution,  their  love 
one  for  the  other,  beautifully  enforced  the  words  of  truth 
and  love. 

One  of  the  early  champions  of  the  faith  appeals  in 
triumph  to  the  excellence  of  Christians,  which  even  Ju- 
lian of  a  later  day  was  forced  to  confess.  You  know 
the  Christians  soon  as  you  see  them,  he  says  ;  they  are 
not  found  in  taverns,  nor  places  of  infamous  resort ;  they 
neither  game,  nor  lie,  nor  steal,  attend  the  baths,  or  the 
theatres  ;  they  are  not  selfish  but  loving.  The  multi- 
tude looked  on,  at  first  to  see  "  whereunto  the  thing 
would  grow."  They  saw,  and  said,  see  how  these  Chris- 
tians love  one  another ;  how  the  new  religion  takes  down 
the  selfishness  of  the  proud,  makes  avarice  charitable, 
and  the  voluptuary  self-denying. 

This  new  spirit  of  piety,  of  love  to  man,  and  love  to 
God,  the  active  application  of  the  great  Christian  max- 
ims to  life,  led  to  a  manly  rchgion  ;  not  to  that  pale- 
faced  pietism  which  hangs  its  head  on  Sundays,  and 
does  notiiing  but  whine  out  its  sentimental  cant  on 
weekdays,  in  hopes  to  make  this  drivelling  pass  cur- 
rent for  real  manly  excellence.  No ;  it  led  to  a  noble, 
upright  frame  of  mind,  heart,  and  soul,  and  in  this  way 
it  conquered  the  world.  The  first  apostles  of  Chris- 
tianity were  persuasive,  through  the  power  of  truth. 
They  told  what  tliey  had  felt.     They  had  been  under 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIAIS'ITY.  273 

the  Law,  and  knew  its  thraldom  ;  they  had  escaped 
from  the  iron  furnace,  and  could  teach  others  the  way. 
No  doubt,  the  wisest  of  them  was  in  darkness  on  many 
points.  Their  general  ignorance,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
scholar,  must  have  stood  in  strange  contrast  with  their 
clear  view  of  religious  truth.  It  seems,  as  Paul  says, 
that  God  had  chosen  the  foolish  and  the  weak,  to  con- 
found the  mighty  and  the  wise.  Now  we  have  accom- 
plished scholars,  skilled  in  all  the  lore  of  the  world,  ac- 
complished orators  ;  but  who  does  the  work  of  Paul  and 
Timothy?  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings 
praise  was  perfected  ;  out  of  the  mouth  of  clerks  and 
orators  what  do  we  get  ?  —  Well  said  Jeremiah,  "  The 
prophets  shall  become  wind,  and  the  word  not  be  in 
them." 

If  we  come  from  the  days  of  the  apostles  to  their  suc- 
cessors, and  still  later,  we  find  the  errors  of  the  first 
teachers  have  become  magnified  ;  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity is  dim  ;  men  had  wandered  further  from  that 
great  light  God  sent  into  the  world.  The  errors  of  the 
Pagans,  the  Jews,  the  errors  of  obstinate  men,  who 
loved  to  rule  God's  heritage  better  than  to  be  ensamples 
unto  the  flock,  had  worked  their  way.  The  same  free- 
dom did  not  prevail  as  before.  The  word  of  God  had 
become  a  letter ;  men  looked  back,  not  forward.  Su- 
perstition came  into  the  church.  The  rites  of  Chris- 
tianity—  its  accidents,  not  its  substance  —  held  an  un- 
due place;  asceticism  was  esteemed  more  than  hitherto. 
The  body  began  to  be  reckoned  unholy ;  Christ  re- 
garded as  a  God,  not  a  man  living  as  God  commands. 
Then  the  Priest  was  separated  from  the  people,  and  a 
flood  of  evils  came  upon  the  church,  and  accomplished 
what  persecution,  with  her  headsmen,  and  her  armies, 


274  PRIMITIVE    CIIRI5TIAXITY. 

never  conld  effect.      Christianity  was  grossly  corrupted 
long  before  it  ascended  the  throne  of  the  world.     But 
for  this  corruption   it  would    have  found   no  place   in 
the   court  of  Rome  or  Byzantium.     Still  in   the  writ- 
ings of  early  Christians,  of  TertuUian  and  Cyprian,  for 
example,  we  find  a  real  living  spirit,  spite  of  the  super- 
stition, bigotry,  and  falseness  too  obvious  in  the  men. 
They  spake  because  they  had  somewhat  to  say,  and 
were  earnest  in  their   speech.     You   come  down  from 
the  writings  of  Seneca  to  Cyprian,  you  miss  the  elegant 
speech,  the  wonderful  mastery  over  language,  and  the 
stores  of  beautiful  imagery,  with  which  that  hard,  bom- 
bastic Roman  sets  oft'  his  thought.     But  in  the  Chris- 
tian —  you  find  an  earnestness  and  a  love  of  man,  which 
the  Roman  had  not,  and  a  fervent  piety,  to  which  he 
made  no  pretension.     But  alas,  for  the  superstition  of 
the  Bishop,  his  austerity  and  unchristian  doctrines!     It 
remains  doubtful,  whether  an  enlightened  man,  who  had 
attained  a  considerable  growth  in  religious  excellence, 
would  not  justly  have  preferred  the  Religion  of  Seneca 
to  that  of  Cyprian  ;  but  there  is  no  doubt  such  an  one 
would  have  accepted  with  joyful  faith  the  religion  of 
Jesus — the    primitive    Christianity  undefiled    by  men. 
To  come  down  from  the  Christianity  of  Christ,  to  the 
Religion  jiopnlarly  taught  in  the  churches  of  New  Eng- 
land, and  we    ask,  can   it  be  this  for  which  men  suf- 
fered martyrdom  —  this  which  changed  the  face  of  the 
world?     Is  this  matter,  for  which  sect  contends  with 
sect,  to  save  the  Heathen  world  ?     Christianity  was  a 
simple  thing  in   Paul's  time;  in   Christ's  it  was  simpler 
still.     But  what  is  it  now?     A  modern  writer   some- 
what  quaintly    says,   the  early    writers    of    the   Chris- 
tian  church   knew  what  Christianity  was ;  they  were 


PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY.  275 

the  fathers  ;  the  scholastics  and  philosophers  of  ihe  dark 
ages  knew  what  Reason  was  ;  they  were  the  doctors ; 
the  religionists  of  modern  times  knowT  neither  what 
is  Christianity,  nor  what  is  Reason  ;  they  are  the  scru- 
tators. 


XI. 

STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS* 


The  work  above  named  is  one  of  profound  theologi- 
cal significance.  It  marks  the  age  we  live  in,  and  to 
judge  from  its  character  and  the  interest  it  has  already 
excited,  will  make  an  epoch  in  theological  affairs.  It  is 
a  book  whose  influence,  for  good  and  for  evil,  will  not 
soon  pass  away.  Taken  by  itself,  it  is  the  most  remark- 
able work  that  has  appeared  in  theology,  for  the  last 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  or  since  Richard  Simon  pub- 
lished his  Critical  History  of  the  Old  Testament ;  viewed 
in  reference  to  its  present  effect,  it  may  well  be  com- 
pared to  Tindal's  celebrated  work,  "  Christianity  as  old 
as  the  Creation,"  to  which,  we  are  told,  more  than  six 
score  replies  have  been  made.  We  do  not  propose  to 
give  any  answer  to  the  work  of  Mr.  Strauss,  or  to  draw 
a  line  between  what  we  consider  false,  and  what  is  true  ; 
but  only  to  give  a  description  and  brief  analysis  of  the 


*  Drfs  Lehen  Jesu,  Kritutch  bearheitet  von  Dr.  David  Friederich 
Strauss.  Tiibingen  :  1837.  2  vols.  8 vo.  The  Life  of  Jesii.<,  crili- 
caUij  treated,  etc.  Second  improved  edition.  (1st  edition,  1835,  3d, 
1839,  4tli,  18-12.)  —[From  the  Christian  Examiner  for  A[)ril,  1840.] 


STRArSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS.  277' 

work  itself,  that  the  good  and  evil  to  be  expected  there-- 
from  may  be  made  evident.  But  before  we  address, 
ourselves  to  this  work,  we  must  say  a^brief  word  re^ 
specting  the  comparative  position  of  Germany  and  Eng- 
land in  regard  to  Theology. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  July,  in  the  year  of  Grace  one 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty-seven,  died  at  Halle, 
in    Germany,  Sigismund  Jacob   Baumgarten  ;  a    man 
who  was    deemed    a    great   light  in    his    time.     Some 
thought  that  Theology  died  with  him.     A  few,  perhaps 
more  than  a  few,  at  one  time  doubted  his  soundness  in 
the  faith,  for  he  studied  Philosophy,  the  Philosophy  of 
Wolf,  and  there  are  always  men,  in  Pulpits  and  Parlors, 
who  think  Philosophy  is  curious  in  unnecessary  m.atters, 
meddling  with  things  that  are  too  high  for  the  human 
arm  to  reach.     Such  was  the  case  in  Baumgarten's  time 
in  Halle  of  Saxony.     Such  is  it  now,  not  in  Halle  of  Sax- 
ony, but  in  a  great  many  places  nearer  home.     But  Dr. 
Baumgarten  outlived  this  suspicion,  we  are  told,  and 
avenged  himself,  in  the  most  natural  way,  by  visiting  with 
thunders  all  such  as  differed  from  himself;  a  secret  satis- 
faction which  some  young  men,  we  are  told,  hope  one 
day  to   enjoy.     Baumgarten  may  be  taken,  perhaps,  as 
representing  the  advanced  post  in  German  theology  in 
the  middle  of  the  last  century.     A  few  words,  from  one  of 
the  greatest  critical  scholars  Europe  has  produced,  will 
serve  to  show  what  that  post  was  a  hundred  years  ago.. 
"  He  attempted,  by  means  of  history  and  philosophy,  to. 
throw  light  upon  theological  subjects,  but  wholly  neg- 
lecting philology  and  criticism,  and  unacquainted  with 
the  best  sources  of  knowledge,  he  was  unable  to  free  re- 
ligion from  its  corruptions. .    Every  thing  that  the  church 
taught  passed  with  him  for  infallible  truth.     He  did  not 
take  pains  to  inquire  whether  it  agreed  with  Scripture 

24 


278  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

or  common  sense.  Devoted  to  the  church,  he  assumed 
its  doctrines,  and  fortified  its  traditions  with  the  show 
of  demonstrations,  as  with  insurmountable  walls  of  de- 
fence. His  scholars  were  no  less  prompt  and  positive  in 
their  decisions  than  their  master.  Every  dogma  of  their 
teacher  was  received  by  them,  as  it  were,  a  mathemat- 
ical certainty,  and  his  polemics  exhibited  to  them  the 
Lutheran  church,  in  exclusive  possession  of  the  truth, 
and  resigned  all  other  sects  covered  with  shame  and 
contempt  to  their  respective  errors.  Every  thing  ap- 
peared to  be  so  clearly  exhibited  and  proved  by  him,  that 
there  seemed  to  be  nothing  left  for  future  scholars  to  in- 
vestigate and  explain ;  but  only  to  repeat  and  enforce 
in  an  intelligible  manner  the  truths  already  acquired. 
Baumgarten,  indeed,  accounted  it  nothing  less  than  high- 
treason  against  his  discipline,  for  his  scholars  to  presume 
to  think  and  examine  for  themselves;  and  acknowl- 
edged him  only  for  his  genuine  discipline,  who  left  his 
school  confident,  that  with  the  weapons  of  his  instructor 
in  his  hands,  he  could  resist  the  whole  theological  world, 
and  overcome  it  without  a  violent  struggle."  *  Philos- 
ophy was  considered  as  a  pest  and  its  precincts  forbidden 
to  all  pious  souls.  Ecclesiastical  history  was  in  the  ser- 
vice of  a  mystical  Pietism ;  its  real  province  and  gen- 
uine sources  were  unknown.  Exegetical  learning  was 
thought  unnecessary,  and  even  a  foe  to  genuine  piety ; 
the  chimeras  of  Buxtorf,  half  Je\Vish,  half  Christian, 
ruled  with  despotic  sway.  Langen's  method  of  salva- 
tion was  esteemed  an  oracle  in  dogmatic  theology,  and 
pietistic  and  fanatical  notions  prevailed  in  morals.     If  a 


*  Eichhorn,  Allgcmeine  Bibliotliek,  etc.;  Leip.,  1793,  vol.  V.  pp. 
IG,  17.  AVe  liave  followed  the  iH-autit'iil  translation  in  "The  Gen- 
eral Repository  and  Keview."     Cambridge,  1812.  vol.  I.  p.  Go,  seq. 


STRAUSS'S    LIFJP    OF   JESUS.  279 

man  was  not  satisfied  with  this,  or  showed  a  desire  for 
morefandamental  theological  learning,  it^yas  said,  "  He 
has  forsaken  his  first  love,  and  wants  to  study  his  Sav- 
iour out  of  the  world."  *  Such  was  Germany  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  The  fate  of  Lawrence  Schmid,  the 
"  Wertheim  Translator"  of  part  of  the  Pentateuch,  is  a 
well-known  sign  of  the  times.  A  young  man  was  ac- 
cused of  Socinianism  and  Arianism,  because  he  doubted 
the  genuineness  of  the  celebrated  passage,  1  John  v.  7, 
now  abandoned  by  all  respectable  critics ;  he  was  reck- 
oned unsound  because  he  openly,  or  in  secret,  studied 
Richard  Simon,  Grotius,  Leclerc,  and  Wetstein.f 

Let  us  now  turn  to  England.  Before  this  time  the 
Deists  had  opened  their  voice ;  Hobbs,  Morgan,  Collins, 
Chubb,  Tindal,  Bolingbroke,  had  said  their  say.  The 
civil  wars  of  England,  in  the  century  before,  had  awa- 
kened the  soul  of  the  nation.  Great  men  had  risen  up, 
and  given  a  progress  to  the  Protestant  Reformation,  such 
as  it  found  in  no  other  country  of  the  world  perhaps,  un- 
less it  were  in  Transylvania  and  Holland.  There  had 
been  a  Taylor,  Cudworth,  Seeker,  Tillotson,  Hoadly, 
Hare,  Lardner,  Foster,  Whitby,  Sykes,  Butler,  Benson, 
Watts,  —  yes,  a  Newton  and  a  Locke,  helping  to  liber- 
alize theology.  The  works  of  Montaigne,, iNIalebranche, 
Bayle,  even  of  Spinoza,  had  readers  in  England,  as  well 
as  opponents.  The  English  theologians  stood  far  in 
advance  of  the  Germans,  among  whom  few  great  names 
were  to  be  reckoned  after  the  Reformation.  Take  the 
century  that  ended  in  the  year  of  Baumgarten's  death, 
and  you  have  the  period  of  England's  greatest  glory  in 


*  Eichhorn,  Ic.  vol.  III.  p.  833,  seq. 

t  See    Semler's   Lebeubesclirelbung ;  Halle,  1781,  vol.  I.  p.  250, 
seq.  et  passim. 


280  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

science,  literature,  and  theology.  The  works  which 
give  character  to  the  nation  were  written  then.  Most 
of  the  English  theology,  which  pays  for  the  reading,  was 
written  before  the  middle  of  the  last  century ;  while  in 
Germany,  few  books  had  been  written  on  that  general 
theme  since  the  sixteenth  century,  which  are  now  re- 
printed or  even  read.  Such  was  England  a  century 
ago. 

What  have  the  two  countries  done  since?  Compare 
Taylor's  Liberty  of  Prophesying,  the  writings  of  Cud- 
worth,  Locke,  Butler,  and  Tillotson,  or  Foster,  with  the 
writings  of  the  men  who  occupy  a  similar  relative  posi- 
tion at  this  day,  —  with  the  general  tone  of  the  more  lib- 
eral writers  of  England,  —  and  what  is  the  result  ?  Need 
it  be  told  ?  Theology,  in  the  main  body  of  English  theo- 
logians, has  not  been  stationary.  It  has  gone  back. 
The  works  of  Priestley,  and  others  like  him,  bear  little 
fruit. 

Now  in  Germany,  since  the  death  of  Baumgarten, 
there  has  been  a  great  advance.  Compare  the  works  of 
Neander,  Bretschneider,  De  Wette,  and  F.  C.  Bauer,  with 
Baumgarten,  and  "the  great  theologians"  of  his  time, 
and  what  a  change.  New  land  has  been  won ;  old 
errors  driven  away.  It  is  not  in  vain,  that  Michaelis, 
Semler,  Eichhorn,  Kant,  Schclling,  liegel,  and  Schleier- 
macher,  have  lived.  Men  study  theology  as  the  Eng- 
lish once  studied  it,  —  as  if  they  were  in  earnest.  New 
([uostions  are  raised  ;  old  doubts  r/iMnovcd ;  some  prin- 
ciples are  fixed  ;  and  theology  studied  as  a  science,  in 
the  light  of  reason.  But  as  another  has  said,  "  In  liie 
Englisii  theology  there  is  somewhat  dead,  and  immov- 
able, catholic,  external,  mechanical;  while  the  indus- 
liial  i)o\\er  of  England  is  active,  and  goes  ahead  with 
giant    strides,  from  invention  to    invention;  while   the 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS.  281 

commercial  and  warlike  spirit  of  the  nation  goes  storm- 
ing forth,  with  manly  and  almost  frantifr  com'age,  into 
the  remotest  distance,  embracing  the  globe  with  its  gi- 
gantic arms,  and  in  the  midst  of  its  material  concerns, 
pursues  without  wearying  the  interests  of  science,  too 
haughty  to  disturb  itself  about  the  truth  of  religions 
foreign  to  its  concerns ;  Theology  remains,  as  it  were, 
to  represent  the  female  element  in  the  mind  of  the  na- 
tion, sitting  at  home,  domestic  as  a  snail,  in  the  old- 
fashioned  narrow  building  she  has  inherited  from  her 
fathers,  which  has  been  patched  up  a  little,  here  and 
there,^s  necessity  compelled.  There  she  sits,  anxiously 
fearing,  in  her  old  womanly  way,  lest  she  shall  be  driven 
out  of  doors  by  the  spirit  of  enlightened  Europe,  which 
sjiorts  with  heathen  religions.  In  English  theology  a 
peace  has  been  established  between  the  Understanding 
and  Christianity,  as  between  two  deadly  foes.  Theol- 
ogy preserves  unhurt  the  objective  contents  of  the  Chris- 
tian Religion;  but  in  the  dull  understanding,  it  lies  like 
a  stone  in  the  stomach."  But  let  us  now  turn  to  the 
work  of  Mr.  Strauss. 

It  is  notour  aim  to  write  a  polemic  against  the  author 
of  the  "  Life  of  Jesus,"  but  to  describe  his  book,  or 
"  define  his  position,"  as  the  politicians  are  wont  to  say. 
The  work  in  question  comprises,  ^r*'?,  an  Introduction, 
relating  to  the  formation  of  "the  Mythical  stand-point," 
from  which  the  Evangelical  history  is  to  be  contem- 
plated ;  second,  the  main  work  itself,  which  is  divided 
into  three  books,  relating  respectively  to  the  History  of 
the  Birth  and  Childhood  of  Jesus ;  his  Public  Life ;  his 
Sufferings,  Death,  and  Resurrection  ;  third,  a  conclusion 
of  the  whole  book,  or  the  doctrinal  significance  of  the 
life  of  Jesus.  The  work  forms  two  closely  printed  vol- 
umes, and  comprises  about  sixteen  hundred  pages,  thus 

24* 


282  STRAUSS' S  LIFE  OF  JESUS. 

making  a  work  nearly  as  large  as  Mr.  Hallam's  History 
-of  Literature.  It  is  not  properly  called  a  Life  of  Jesus ; 
but  a  better,  a  more  descriptive  title?  would  be,  A  Funda- 
mental Criticism  on  the  Four  Gosi)els.  Tn  regard  to 
learning,  acuteness,  and  sagacious  conjectures,  the  work 
.resembles  Niebuhr's  History  of  Rome.  Like  that,  it  is 
not  a  history,  but  a  criticism  and  collection  of  materials, 
out  of  which  a  conjectural  history  may  be  constructed. 
Mr.  Strauss,  however,  is  not  so  original  as  Niebuhr, 
(who  yet  had  numerous  predecessors,  though  they  are 
rarely  noticed,)  but  is  much  more  orderly  and  method- 
ical. The  general  manner  of  treating  the  subject,  and 
arranging  the  chapters,  sections,,  and  parts  of  the  argu- 
ment, indicates  consunmiate  dialectical  skill;  while  the 
style  is  clear,  the  expression  direct,  and  the  author's 
openness  in  referring  to  his  sources  of  information,  and 
stating  his  conclusions  in  all  their  simplicity,  is  candid 
and  exemplary.* 

The  Introduction  to  the  work  is  valuable  to  every 
student  of  the  Scriptures,  who  has  sufficient  sagacity  to 
■discern  between  the  true  and  the  false ;  to  any  other  it 
is  dangerous,  as  are  all  strong  books  to  weak  heads, 
very  dangerous,  from  its  "  specious  appearances."'  It  is 
quite  indispensable  to  a  comprehension  of  the  main 
work.  W(i  will  give  a  brief  abstract  of  some  of  its  most 
important  matters.  If  a  form  of  religion  rest  on  writ- 
ten documents,  sooner  or  later,  Ihere  comes  a  diiference 
between  the  old  document  and  the  modern  discoveries 
and  culture  shown  in  works  written  to  explain  it.  So 
long  as  the  diflerence  is  not  total,  attempts  will  be  made 
to  reconcile  the  two.     A  great  part  of  religious  docu- 


*  He  professes  very  honestly,  that  lie  has  no  presuppositions.     We 
shall  touch  upon  this  point. 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF  JESUS.  283 

ments  relate  to  sacred  history,  to  events  and  instances 
of  the  Deity  stepping  into  the  circle  of^human  affairs. 
Subsequently,  doubts  arise  as  to  the  fact,  and  it  is  said 
"the  divinity  could  not  have  done  as  it  is  alleged," 
or,  "  the  deed  could  not  be  divine."  Then  attempts  are 
made  to  show  either  that  these  deeds  luere  never  done, 
and,  therefore,  the  documentary  record  is  not  entitled 
to. historical  credibility,  or  that  they  ivere  not  done  by 
God,  and,  therefore,  to  explain  away  the  real  contents 
of  the  book.  In  each  of  these  cases,  the  critic  may 
go  fearlessly  to  work  ;  look  facts  clearly  in  the  face  ; 
acknowledge  the  statements  of  the  old  record,  with  the 
inconsistency  between  them  and  the  truths  of  science ; 
or,  he  may  go  to  work  under  constraint ;  may  blind  him- 
self to  this  inconsistency,  and  seek  merely  to  unfold  the 
original  meaning  of  the  text.  This  took  place  in  Greece, 
where  religion  did  not  rest  on  religious  documents,  but 
had  yet  a  sort  of  connection  with  the  mythological  storifes 
of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  and  with  others,  which  circulated 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  The  serious  philosophers  soon 
saw  that  these  stories  could  not  be  true.  Hence  arose 
Plato's  quarrel  with  Homer;  hence  Anaxagoras  gave 
an  alleg-oriccd  explanation  of  Homer,  and  the  Stoics 
naturalized  Hesiod's  Theogony,  supposing  it  related  to 
the  operations  of  Nature.  Others,  like  Evhemerus,  hu- 
manized and  applied  these  stories  to  men,  who  by  great 
deeds  had  won  divine  honors. 

Now  with  the  Hebrews,  their  stability,  and  their  ad- 
herence to  the  supernatural  stand-point  would,  on  the 
one  hand,  prevent  such  views  being  taken  of  their  relig- 
ious records  ;  and  on  the  other,  would  render  this  treat- 
ment the  more  necessary.  Accordingly,  after  the  exile, 
and  still  more  after  the  time  of  the  Maccabees,  the  He- 
brew teacliers  found  means  to  remove  what  was  offen- 


284  STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF  JESUS. 

sive;  to  fill  up  chasms,  and  introduce  modern  ideas  into 
their  religious  books.  This  was  first  done  at  Alexandria. 
Philo,  —  following  numerous  predecessors,  —  maintained 
there  was  a  common  and  a  deeper  sense  in  tlie  Scrip- 
tures, and  in  some  cases,  the  literal  meaning  was  al- 
together set  aside;  especially  when  it  comprised  any 
thing  excessively  anthropomorphitic,  or  unworthy  of 
God.  Thus  he  gave  up  the  historical  character,  to  save 
the  credit  of  the  narrative,  but  never  followed  the  method 
of  Evhemerus.  The  Christians  applied  the  same  treat- 
ment to  the  Old  Testament,  and  Origen  found  a  lileral, 
moral,  and  mystical  sense  in  all  parts  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  sometimes  applied  the  saying,  "  the  letter  killeth, 
but  the  spirit  maketh  alive,"  to  the  former.  Some  pas- 
sages, he  said,  had  no  literal  sense ;  in  others  a  lileral 
lie  lay  at  the  bottom  of  a  mijstical  truth.  Many  deeds, 
he  says,  are  mentioned  in  Scripture,  which  were  never 
performed;  fiction  is  woven  up  with  fact  t6  lead  us  to 
virtue.  He  rejected  the  literal  sense  of  those  passages 
which  humanize  the  Deity.  But  Origen  went  further, 
and  applied  these  same  principles  to  the  New  Testament, 
where  he  found  much  that  was  distasteful  to  his  philo- 
sophical palate.  Here  also  he  finds  fictions  mingled  with 
fact,  and  compares  the  Homeric  stories  of  the  Trojan 
war,  in  respect  to  their  credibility,  with  the  Christian 
narratives.  In  both  Homer  and  the  Gospels,  he  would 
consider  what  j)ortions  can  be  believed  ;  what  considered 
as  figurative  ;  what  rejected  as  incredible,  and  the  result 
of  human  frailty.  He,  therefore,  does  not  demand  a 
blind  faith  in  the  Gospels,  but  would  have  all  Chris- 
tians understand,  that  good-sense  and  diligent  examina- 
tion are  necessary  in  this  study,  to  ascertain  the  mean- 
ing of  a  particular  passage.  But  this  heretical  Father 
was  too  cautious  to  extend  these  remarks,  and  apply 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS.  285 

them  extensively  to  particular  passages.  The  Scrip- 
tures fell  into  the  hands  of  men,  who  acknowledged 
something  divine  in  them;  but  denied  7hat  God  had 
made  therein  particular  manifestations  of  himself.  This 
was  done  by  Celsus,  Porphyry,  and  Julian,  who  assented 
to  much  that  is  related  of  Moses  and  Jesus;  while  they 
found  "  lying  legends  "  in  other  parts  of  the  Bible. 

Among  the  Greeks  and  Hebrews,  whose  religious  lit- 
erature was  contemporary  with  the  growth  of  the  nation, 
the  prevalence  of  allegorical  interpretation  of  the  sacred 
books,  proved  that  the  old  forms  of  religion  had  died 
out,  for  the  modern  culture  had  outgrown  the  faith  of 
the  fathers  of  the  nation.     But  in   Christianity,  the  al- 
legorical explanation  adopted  by  Origen,  and  the  pecu- 
liar opposition  of  Celsus  taking  place  so  near  the  birth 
of  Christianity,  prove  that  the  world  had  not  yet  prop- 
erly lived  in  the  new  form  of  religion.     But,  from  the 
age  after  this  time,  when  the  rude  Germanic  nations, — 
too,  rude  to  find   any  difficulty  in   admitting  the  most 
objectionable  parts  of  the  Old  and  Miw  Testament, — 
were    conquering  the   Roman    Empire,  and    becoming 
Christians  at  the  same  time,  all  proofs  have  disappeared, 
wdiich  would  indicate  the  prevalence  of  a  manner  of  in- 
terpreting the   Scriptures,  that  arose  from  a  radical  dis- 
crepancy between  the  culture  of  mankind  and  the  state- 
ments in   these  records.     The   Reformation    made  the 
first  breach  upon  the  solid  walls  of  Ecclesiastical  faith 
in  the  letter  of  the  Bible.     This  was  the  first  sign,  that 
ui    Christianity  as  formerly  in  Judaism   and   Heathen- 
ism, there  was  a  culture  sufficiently  ])owerful  to  react 
upon  the  prevalent  form  of  religion. 

So  far  as  the  Reformation  was  directed  against  the 
Romish  Church,  it  soon  accomplished  its  sublime  mis- 
sion.    But  in  relation  to  the  Scriptures,  it  took  the  di- 


286  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

rectioii  of  Deism.  Toland  and  Bolingbroke  called  the 
Bible  a  collection  of  fabulous  books.  Others  robbed 
the  Scriptural  heroes  of  all  divine  light.  The  law  of 
Moses  was  considered  a  superstition ;  the  apostles  were 
called  selfish  ;  the  character  of  Jesus  was  assailed  ;  and 
his  resurrection  denied  by  a  "  moral  philosopher."  Here 
belong  Chubb,  Woolston,  Morgan,  and  the  Wolfenbiittel 
Fragmentist.  These  scholars  were  ably  opposed  by  a 
host  of  apologetical  writers  in  England  and  Germany, 
who  defended  the  supernatural  character  of  the  Bible. 
But  in  Germany  there  arose  a  different  class  of  men, 
who  designed  to  strip  the  Bible  of  its  supernatural  char- 
acter, and  direct  divinity;  but  to  leave  its  human  char- 
acter unharmed.  They  would  not  call  the  alleged  mira- 
cles, miracles,  nor  consider  them  as  jirg-q-ling:  Thus 
Eichhorn  opposed  the  Deists, —  who  ascribed  bad  mo- 
tives to  the  writers  of  Scripture,  —  but  denied  that  there 
was  any  thing  supernatural  in  the  stories  of  the  Old 
Testament.  He  saw  that  he  must  deny  this  of  the 
Bible,  or  admit  it  tikewise  of  all  ancient  religious  docu- 
ments ;  for  they  all  claimed  it.  We  are  not  to  be  as- 
tonished, he  says,  at  finding  miracles  in  these  writings, 
for  they  were  produced  in  the  infancy  of  the  world ;  we 
must  interpret  them  in  the  same  spirit  that  composed 
them.  Thus  he  can  explain  the  history  of  Noah,  Abra- 
ham, and  Moses,  by  natural  events. 

Others  treated  the  New  Testament  in  the  same  man- 
ner. But  the  first  Christian  Evhemerus,  was  Dr.  Pau- 
lus.  He  makes  a  distinction  between  the  fact  related 
and  the  /iidg-ment  or  opinion  respecting;  the  fact]  for  ex- 
ample, between  the  fact  and  the  writer's  opinion  respect- 
ing its  cause,  or  ])iirpose.  The  two,  he  supposes,  arc 
confounded  in  the  New  Testament;  for  its  writers,  like 
others  in  that  age,  took  a  supernatural  view,  and  referred 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS.  287 

human  actions  to  the  direct  agency  of  God.     The  office 
of  an  interpreter  is  to  separate  the  fact  from  the  opbiion 
about  the  fact.     Paulus,  accordingly,  belTeves  the  Gos- 
pels, but  denies  the  supernatural  causality  of  the  events 
related.     Jesus  is  not  the  Son  of  God,  in  the  ecclesias- 
tical sense,  but  a  good  man ;  he  works  no  miracles,  but 
does   kind  deeds,  sometimes  by  chirurgical   skill,   and 
sometimes  by  good  lack.     Both  Paulus  and  Eichhorn, 
in  order  to  maintain  the  truth  of  the  narrative,  must 
refer  it  to  a  date  as  early  as  possible;  thus  the  former 
admits  that  Moses  wrote  the  Pentateuch  on  the  march 
through  the  wilderness,  and  the  latter  believes  the.  gen- 
uineness of  the  Gospels.     Both  of  these  sacrifice  the^lit- 
eral  history  for  the  sake  of  the  great  truths  contained  in 
the  book. 

Kant  took  a  different  position.     He  did  not  concern 
himself  with  the  history,  but  only  with  the  idea  the  his- 
tory unfolded  ;  this  idea  he  considered  not  as  theoretical 
and  practical,  but  only  the  latter.     He  did  not  refer  it 
to  the  divine  mind,  but  to  that  of  the  writer,  or  his  inter- 
preter.    Christian  writers,  he  says,  have  so  long  inter- 
preted these  books,  that  they  seem  to  harmonize  with 
universal  moral  laws.     But  the  Greeks  and  Romans  did 
the  same,  and  made  Polytheism  only  a  symbol  of  the 
various  attributes  of  the  One  God,  thus  giving  a  mys- 
tical sense  to  the  basest  actions  of  the  gods,  and  the 
wildest  dreams   of  the  poets.     In   the    same  way  the 
Christian  writings  must  be  explained,  so  as  to  make 
them  harmonize  with  the  universal  laws  of  a  pure  moral 
Religion.     This,  even  if  it  does  violence  to  the  iex\,  must 
be  preferred  to  the  literal  interpretation,  which,  in  many 
instances,  would   afford  no    support   to    morality,  and  ' 
would  sometimes  counteract  the  moral  sense.     Thus  he 
makes  David's  denunciation  of  his  foes  signify  the  de- 


28S  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

sire  to  overcome  obstacles ;  but  thinks  it  is  not  necessary 
these  ideas  should  have  been  present  to  the  mind  of  the 
writer  of  the  books. 

Here,  Mr.  Strauss  continues,  was,  on  the  one  hand, 
an  iinhistorical,  and  on  the  other,  an  unpliilosophical 
method  of  treating  the  Bible.  The  progressive  study  of 
mythology  shed  light  upon  this  subject.  Eichhorn  had 
made  the  reasonable  demand,  that  the  Bible  should  be 
treated  like  other  ancient  books  ;  but  Paulus,  attempting 
to  treat  others  as  he  treated  the  Bible,  could  not  natu- 
ralize the  Greek  legends  and  myths.  Such  scholars  as 
Schelling  and  Gabler  began  to  find  myths  in  the  Bible, 
and  apply  to  them  the  maxim  of  Heyne,  "  a  mythis 
omnis  priscorumhominum  cum  historia.tum  philosophia 
procedit."  Bauer  ventured  to  write  a  Hebrew  mythol- 
ogy of  the  Old  and  New  Testament.  A  myth  was  de- 
fined to  be  a  narration  proceeding  from  an  age,  when 
there  was  no  written,  authentic  history,  but  when  facts 
were  preserved  and  related  by  oral  tradition.  It  is  a 
myth,  if  it  contains  an  account  of  things,  —  related  in  an 
historical  way,  —  which  absolutely/  could  not  be  the 
objects  of  experience,  such  as  events  that  took  place  in 
the  supersensual  world,  or,  which  could  not  relatii'ely  be 
objects  of  experience,  such,  for  example,  as,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  no  man  could  witness.  Or,  finally, 
it  is  a  myth,  if  the  narrative  is  elaborated  into  the  won- 
derful, and  is  related  in  symbolic  language. 

Now  the  naluraHslic  method  of  interpreting  the  Bible 
could  only  be  resorted  to  on  the  supposition  of  its  his- 
torical accuracy,  and  that  it  was  written  contemporary 
with  the  events  it  relates.  Accordingly,  men  who  de- 
nied this,  carried  out  the  mythical  theory.  The  Penta- 
teuch, says  Vater,  can  be  understood  only  on  the  sup- 
position it  was  not  written  by  eye-witnesses.     De  Wette 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS.  289 

declared  still  more  strongly  against  the  naturalistic,  and 
in  favor  of  the  mythical  hypothesis.  To  test  the  cred- 
ibility of  an  account,  he  says,  we  must  examine  the 
writer's  tendency.  He  may  write  history,  and  yet  have 
a  poetic  tendency,  and  such  is  the  case  with  the  writers 
of  the  Old  Testament.  Fact  and  fiction  are  blended 
together  therein,  and  we  cannot  separate  them,  because 
we  have  no  criterion  or  touchstone,  by  which  to 
examine  them.  The  only  source  of  our  knowledge  of 
events  is  the  narrative  relating  the  historical  facts.  We 
cannot  go  beyond  this.  In  regard  to  the  Old  Testament, 
we  must  admit  or  reject  these  narratives ;  in  the  latter 
case,  we  relinquish  all  claim  to  any  knowledge  of  the 
affairs  related,  for  we  have  no  other  evidence  respecting 
them.  We  have  no  right  to  impose  a  natural  explana- 
tion on  what  is  related  as  a  miracle.  It  is  entirely  arbi- 
trary to  say  the.  fact  is  genuine  history,  and  the  drapery 
alone  is  poetical ;  for  example,  we  have  no  right  to  say 
Abraham  thought  he  would  make  a  covenant  with  God, 
and  that  this  fact  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  poetic  narra- 
tive. Nor  do  we  know  what  Abraham  thought.  If  we 
follow  the  narrative,  we  must  take  the  fact  as  it  is  ;  if  we 
reject  it,  we  have  no  knowledge  of  the  fact  itself.  It  is 
not  reasonable  that  Abraham  should  have  such  thoughts 
of  his  descendants  possessing  Palestine  centuries  after- 
wards, but  quite  natural,  that  they  should  write  this 
poetic  fiction  to  glorify  their  ancestor. 

Thus  the  naturalistic  explanation  destroys  itself,  and 
the  mythical  takes  its  place.  Even  Eichhorn  confessed 
the  former  could  not  be  applied  to  the  New  Testament, 
and  Gabler,  long  ago,  maintained,  that  there  are  in  the 
New  Testament,  not  only  erroneous  judg-ments  upon 
/ac/A-,  which  an  eye-witness  might  make;  but  also  false 
facts  and  improbable  results  mentioned,  which  an  eye- 

25 


290  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS. 

witness  could  not  relate,  but  which  were  gradually 
formed  by  tradition,  and  are,  therefore,  to  be  considered 
myths.  The  circumstance  of  writings  and  books  being 
well  known  at  the  time  of  Christ,  does  not  preclude  the 
mythical  view;  for  the  facts  must  have  been  preserved 
orally  long  before  they  were  written  down.  Besides, 
says  Bauer,  we  have  not  in  the  New  Testament  a  whole 
series  of  myths,  but  only  single  mythical  stories.  Anec- 
dotes are  told  of  a  great  man,  which  assume  a  more  ex- 
traordinary character,  the  further  they  spread.  In  a  mir- 
acle-loving age,  the  obscure  youth  of  Jesus  would,  after 
his  name  became  illustrious,  be  embellished  with  mirac- 
ulous stories  of  celestial  beings  visiting  his  parents,  pre- 
dicting his  birth  and  character.  Where  the  records  or 
authentic  tradition  failed,  men  gave  loose  to  fancy,  to 
historical  conjectures,  and  reasonings  in  the  style  of  the 
Jewish  Christians,  and  thus  created  the  philosophic 
myths  of  primitive  Christian  history.  But  men  did  not 
sit  down  with  fancy  aforethought,  saying,  "  Go  to,  now, 
let  us  make  myths  ;  "  but  they  were  gradually  formed ; 
a  little  was  added  here,  and  a  little  there.  They  would 
relate  chiefly  to  the  obscurest  part  of  Christ's  history. 
In  obedience  to  this  principle,  Eichhorn,  seeing  that  only 
a  slender  thread  of  apostolical  tradition  runs  through 
the  three  first  Gospels,  rejects  several  stories  from  the 
life  of  Jesus,  which  oifended  his  critical  taste;  for  exam- 
ple, the  gospel  of  the  infancy,  the  temptation,  some  of 
his  miracles,  the  resurrection  of  the  saints  at  his  death. 

Now,  Mr.  Strauss  objects  to  his  predecessors,  that  for 
the  most  part,  their  idea  of  a  myth  is  not  just  and  defi- 
nite ;  for  in  the  case  of  a  historical  myth,  they  permit 
the  interpreter  to  separate  a  natural,  historical  fact  from 
the  miraculous  embellishments,  which  they  refer  to  Ira- 


STRAITSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS.  291 

dilion ;  not,  as  the  naturalist  had  done,  to  the  original 
author.  Thus  the  naturalist  and  the  supernaturalist 
could  admit  historical  but  not  philosophTcal  myths,  for 
then  the  entire  historical  basis  seemed  to  fall  away. 
Again,  these  views  were  not  applied  extensively  —  as 
far  as  they  would  go.  Eichhorn  admitted  there  was  a 
myth  on  the  threshold  of  the  Old  Testament.  When 
the  mythical  hypothesis  reached  the  New  Testament,  it 
was  not  permitted  to  go  beyond  the  very  entrance.  It 
was  admitted  there  could  be  no  certain  accounts  of  the 
early  life  of  Jesus,  and  therefore  that  many  false  stories, 
suited  to  the  taste  of  the  times  and  the  oracles  of  the 
Old  Testament,  have  taken  the  place  which  there  was 
no  history  to  fill.  But  this  does  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  impair  the  credibility  of  the  subsequent  narra- 
tive. The  evangelists  give  an  account  of  the  three  last 
years  of  his  life  ;  and  here  they  were  themselves  eye-wit- 
nesses, or  took  the  word  of  eye-witnesses.  Then  objec- 
tions were  brought  against  the  end  of  the  history,  and 
the  Ascension  was  considered  spurious  or  mythical. 
Thus  critical  doubts  began  to  nibble  at  both  ends  of 
the  narrative,  while  the  middle  remained  untouched,  or 
as  some  one  has  said,  "  Theologians  entered  the  domain 
of  Evangelical  history  through  the  gorgeous  portals  of 
the  myth,  and  passed  out  at  a  similar  gate;  but  in  all 
that  lay  between  these  limits,  they  were  content  to  take 
the  crooked  and  toilsome  paths  of  naturalistic  explana- 
tion." 

Mr.  Strauss  next  inquires,  whether  it  is  possible  there 
should  be  myths  in  the  New  Testament,  and,  judging 
from  outward  arguments,  he  thinks  it  possible.  Most 
Christians,  he  says,  believe  that  is  false  which  the 
Heathen  relate  of  their  gods,  and-  the   Mahometans  of 


292  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

their  prophet,  while  the  Scriptures  relate  only  what  is 
true  respecting  the  acts  of  God,  Christ,  and  the  holy 
men.  But  this  is  a  prejudice  founded  on  the  assump- 
tion that  Christianity  differs  from  heathen  religions  in 
the  fact,  that  it  alone  is  an  historical,  while  they  are 
mythical  religions.  But  this  is  the  result  of  a  partial 
and 'confined  view  ;  for  each  of  the  other  religions  brings 
this  charge  against  its  rivals,  and  all  derive  their  own 
origin  from  the  direct  agency  of  God.  It  is  supposed 
that  the  Gospels  were  written  by  eye-witnesses,  who 
were  not  deceived  themselves,  and  were  not  deceivers, 
and,  therefore,  no  room  is  left  for  the  formation,  or  in- 
sertion of  myths.  But  it  is  only  a  prejudice,  that  the 
Gospels  were  written  by  eye-witnesses.  The  names  of 
Matthew  and  John,  for  example,  prefixed  to  these  WTit- 
ings,  prove  nothing ;  for  the  Pentateuch  bears  the  name 
of  Moses,  though  it  must  have  been  written  long  after 
him ;  some  of  the  Psalms  bear  the  name  of  David, 
though  they  were  written  during  the  exile,  and  the  book 
of  Daniel  ascribes  itself  to  that  prophet,  though  it  was 
not  written  before  the  times  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes. 
He  finds  little  reason  for  believing  the  genuineness  or 
the  authenticity  of  the  Gospels.  Indeed,  he  regards 
them  all  as  spurious  productions  of  well-meaning  men, 
who  collected  the  traditions  that  v^'ere  current  in  the 
part  of  the  world,  where  they  respectively  lived.  This 
is  the  weakest  part  of  his  book,  important  as  the  ques- 
tion is  ;  yet  weak  as  it  is,  his  chief  argument  rests  upon 
it.  The  proofs  of  the  spuriousness  of  these  books  are 
quite  too  feeble  and  uncertain  for  his  purpose,  and  ac- 
cordingly we  are  pleased  to  see,  from  the  preface  and 
many  passages  of  the  third  edition,  that  his  doubts 
upon  the  genuineness  of  .John's  Gospel  have  become 
doubtful,  even   to  himself,  after  a  further  study  of  it. 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS.  '  293 

with  the  aid  of  the  recent  works  of  Neander  and  De 
Wette.* 

Again,  judging  from  the  character  of  the  books  them- 
selves, myths,  according  to  Strauss,  might  be  expected 
in  the  New  Testament.  It  is  sometimes  said, the  myth- 
ical stories  of  the  Bible  differ  from  the  Greek  myths,  in 
their  superior  moral  character ;  but  the  alleged  immor- 
ality of  the  Greek  myths  arises  from  mistaking  their 
sense,  and  some  of  the  myths  in  the  Old  Testament 
are  immoral ;  and  if  they  could  be  formed,  much  easier 
could  moral  myths  be  made  and  accepted.  It  is  some- 
times said  in  opposition  to  the  mythical  hypothesis,  that 
all  these  stories  in  the  Bible  appear  natural,  if  you  admit 
the  direct  agency  of  God.  But  the  same  remark  ap- 
plies equally  to  the  Greek  and  Indian  myths.  Still 
further,  it  is  said,  the  Heathen  myths  represent  God  as 
a  changing  being,  and  thus  contain  the  natural  history 
of  God,  and  the  birth,  infancy,  youth,  and  manhood  of 
Apollo,  or  Jupiter,  for  example ;  while  those  of  the 
Bible  represent  Jehovah  as  eternally  the  same.  But 
Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  the  divine  Logos  incarnated,  is 
the  subject  of  history.  Others  say  there  can  be  no  myths, 
because  the  time  of  Jesus  was  an  historical  and  not  a 
mythical  age  ;  but  all  parts  of  the  world  were  not  filled 
with  the  historical  spirit,  and  fictions  might  easily  grow 
up  among  the  people,  who  had  no  design  to  deceive, 
and  thus  myths  be  formed.  This  is  the  more  probable, 
for  in  ancient  times,  among  the  Hebrews,  and  in  par- 
ticular in  the  religious  circles  of  that  people,  history  and 
fiction,  like  poetry  and  prose,  were  never  carefully  sep- 
arated,  and  the   most  respectable  writers,  among  the 

*  Neander's  Leben  Jesu  ;  De  Wette's  Exegetische  Handbuch  der 
N.  T.     Commentar  iij  Johan. 

25* 


294  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

Jews  and  early  Christians,  wrote  works,  and  ascribed 
them  to  distinguished  men  of  an  earlier  age. 

His  definition  and  criteria  of  a  myth  are  as  follows : 
a  myth  has  two  sides ;  first,  it  is  not  a  history ;  and 
second,  it  is  a  fiction,  which  has  been  produced  by  the 
state  of  mind  of  a  certain  community. 

I.  It  is  not  an  historical  statement:  (1)  if  it  contra- 
dict the  well-known  laws  of  causality,  (and  here  belong 
the  direct  actions  and  supernatural  appearances  of  God 
and  the  angels,  miracles,  prophecies,  and  voices  from 
Heaven,  violations  of  the  order  of  succession,  and  well- 
known  psychological  laws;)  and  (2)  when  the  WTiters 
or  witnesses  contradict  each  other,  in  respect  to  tme, 
(for  example  of  the  purification  of  the  temple,)  place, 
(the  residence  of  Joseph  and  Mary,)  number,  (the  Gada- 
renes  and  angels  at  the  grave,)  or  in  respect  to  names 
and  other  circumstances. 

n.  A  narrative  is  shown  to  be  legendary  or  fictitious, 
(1)  if  it  is  poetical  in  form,  and  the  discourses  of  the 
characters  are  longer  and  more  inspired  than  we  need 
expect,  (for  example,  the  discourses  of  Jesus,)  and  (2) 
if  the  substance  of  the  narrative  agrees  remarkably  with 
the  preconceived  opinions  of  the  community  where  it 
originated,  it  is  more  or  less  probable  the  narrative  grew 
out  of  the  opinion.  He  adds  several  qualifications  and 
modifications  of  these  tests. 

Having  thus  drawn  lines  of  circumvallation  and  con- 
travallation  about  the  Gos))els,  Mr.  Strauss  thus  opens 
the  attack  upon  the  outworks.  The  narrative  in  Luke 
relating  to  John  the  Baptist,  he  says,  is  not  authentic; 
it  is  not  ])robablc  the  angelic  state  is  constituted  as  it  is 
here  supposed.  This  idea  was  borrowed  by  the  later  Jews 
from  the  Zend  religion,  and  the  name  of  the  angel  Ga- 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS.  295 

briel,and  his  office  to  stand  before  God,  are  Babylonian. 
Ihe  angel's  discourse  and  conduct  are  jpbjectionable  ; 
he  commands  that  the  child  shall  be  trained  up  as  a 
Nazarite,  and  smites  Zacharias  with  dumbness,  which 
is  not  consistent  with  "  theocratic  decorum."     Admit- 
ting the  existence  of  angels,  they  could  not  reveal  them- 
selves to   men,  since  they  belong  to  diflferent   spheres. 
The  naturalists  and  supernaturalists  fail  to  render  this 
story  credible,  and  we  are,  therefore,  forced  to  double  its 
literal  accuracy.     Some  writers  suppose  there  are  his- 
torical facts  at  the  bottom  of  this  tale,  for  example,  the 
sterility  of  Elizabeth,  the  sudden  dumbness   of  Zach- 
arias, and  his  subsequent  restoration.     But  there  is  no 
better  reason  for  admitting  these  facts,  than  for  admit- 
ting the  whole  story.     It  must  be  regarded  as  a  myth, 
and  is  evidently  wought  out  in  imitation  of  others  in 
the  Old  Testament.     It  resembles  the  story  of  Sarah, 
in  the  age  of  the  parties  ;  Elizabeth  is  a  daughter  of 
Aaron,  whose  wife  bore  this  same  name.     The  appear- 
ance of  the   angel,  who  foretells  the  birth  of  John,  his 
character,  and  destiny,  is  evidently  an  imitation  of  the 
prophecy  respecting  Samson,  and  there  is  a  very  strong 
resemblance  between  the  language  of  Luke  in  this  part 
of  the  story,  and  that  of  the  Septuagint  in  the  account 
of  Samson's  birth.     The  conclusion  of  the  story  (Luke 
i.    80)    resembles   the    end    of    the    story    of    Ishmael, 
(Gen.  xxi.  20).    The  name  of  John,  [God's  Gift,]  which 
was  not  a  family  name,  renders  the  narrative  still  more 
suspicious.     Thus  the  whole  is  a  myth.     We  think  Mr. 
Strauss,  for  the  sake  of  consistency,  ought  to  deny  that 
John  the  Baptist  was  an  historical  person,  and  doubt- 
less he  would  have  done  so,  were  it  not  for  an  unfortu- 
nate passage  in  Josephus,  which  mentions  that  prophet. 


296  STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

A  rigorous  application  of  his  tests  would  deprive  John 
of  historical  existence.     But  Josephus  saves  him. 

He  next  examines  the  genealogies  of  Jesus. 

Matthew  eniimerates  three  series,  each  of  fourteen 
generations,  or  forty-two  persons  in  the  whole,  between 
Abraham  and  Jesus,  and  gives  the  names  of  the  individ- 
uals ;  but  the  number  actually  given  does  not  agree 
with  his  enumeration,  and  no  hypothesis  relieves  us  of 
the  difficulty.  If  we  compare  this  list  with  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, it  is  still  more  objectionable,  for  it  omits  several 
well-known  names,  and  contains  some  mistakes.  Luke's 
genealogy  differs  still  more  widely  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment; from  Nathan,  the  son  of  David,  downward,  he 
mentions  only  tivo  persons,  who  occur  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, namely  Salathiel  and  Zorobabel,  and  even  here  it 
contradicts  the  narratives  in  1  Chronicles,  iii.  17,  19,  20. 
If  we  compare  these  two  genealogies  together,  there  is 
a  striking  difference  between  them.  Luke  reckons 
fortu-one  generations  from  David  to  Joseph,  the  father 
of  Jesus,  where  Matthew  makes  but  twenty-six.,  and, 
with  the  two  exceptions  above  mentioned,  the  names 
dre  all  different  in  the  two  narrations.  According  to 
Luke,  the  father  of  Joseph  is  Heli.,  a  descendant  of 
Nathan,  son  of  David  ;  according  to  Matthew,  Joseph's 
father  is  Jacob,  a  descendant  of  Sofonion.  Variotis 
attempts  have  been  made  to  reconcile  these  conflicting 
genealogies,  but  they  all  rest  on  arbitrary  suppositions. 
It  is  sometimes  said  one  contains  the  genealogy  of 
Joseph,  the  other  of  Mary  ;  but  this  also  is  an  arbitrary 
supposition,  at  variance  with  the  text,  and  is  not  sup- 
ported by  any  passage  in  the  Bible.  We  must,  then, 
conclude  these  genealogies  are  arbitrary  compositions, 
which  do  not  prove  the  Davidic  descent  of  Jesus,  who 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE   OF  JESUS.  297 

was  called  son  of  David,  because  he  was  considered  as 
the  Messiah.  It  is  easily  conceivable  that  a  Galilean, 
whose  des'cent  was  unknown,  after  he  ha<f  acquired  the 
title  of  Messiah,  should  be  represented  by  tradition  as 
a  son  of  David.  On  the  strength  of  these  traditions 
genealogies  were  composed,  which,  for  want  of  authen- 
tic documents,  were  as  various  and  conflicting  as  these 
two  of  Luke  and  Matthew. 

He  then  treats  of  the  miraculous  birth  of  Jesns. 

Here  he  makes  use  of  two  apocryphal  Gospels, 
quoted  by  several  of  the  early  fathers.  He  shows  the 
striking  difference  between  the  accounts  of  Matthew 
and  Luke,  concerning  the  birth  of  Jesus.  But  since 
the  same  view  has  been  taken  amongst  us  by  Mr.  Nor- 
ton, and  this  remarkable  discrepancy  has  been  pointed 
out  by  him  in  a  work  well  known  and  justly  valued,* 
it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  further  into  the  subject.  Mr. 
Norton  rejects  Matthew's  account  as  spurious  and  un- 
authentic; while  Mr.  Strauss,  with  more  perfect  logical 
consistency,  rejects  likewise  Luke's  narrative,  on  the 
ground  that  Gabriel  talks  like  a  Jew ;  that  the  super- 
natural birth  is  impossible;  that  if  an  human  birth  im- 
plies the  sinfulness  of  the  child,  then  a  celestial  mother 
is  needed  also,  that  the  child  may  be  free  from  sin. 
Again,  there  are  exegetical  difficulties,  for  Mark  and 
John  omit  this  part  of  the  history,  and  the  latter  had 
the  best  possible  means  of  information,  and  it  is  always 
supposed  in  the  New  Testament  that  Jesus  was  Joseph's 
son.  Beside,  if  Jesus  were  the  Son  of  God,  how  could 
he  be  the  son  of  David,  and  why  are  the  two  genealo- 
gies given  to  prove  that  descent,  one  of  which  is  con- 


*  Evidences  of  the  Genuineness  of  the  Gospels,  by  Andrews  Nor- 
ton.    Vol.  I.;  Boston,  1837. 


298  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

fessed,  on  all  hands,  to  be  the  genealogy  of  Joseph,  who, 
by  the  supernatural  hypothesis,  was  nowise  related  to 
Jesus?  Tn  this  case  the  genealogies  would  prove  noth- 
ing. It  is  not  possible,  they  proceeded  from  the  same 
hand  as  the  story  of  the  supernatural  birth,  and  Mr. 
Strauss  conjectures  they  are  the  work  of  the  Ebionites, 
who  denied  that  article  of  faith.  The  attempts  of  the 
rationalists  and  the  supernaturalists  are  alike  insuffi- 
cient, he  thinks,  to  explain  away  the  difficulties  of  this 
narrative  ;  but  if  we  regard  it  as  a  myth,  the  difficulty 
vanishes,  and  its  origin  is  easily  explained.  The  story 
itself,  in  Matthew,  refers  to  Isaiah,  (vii.  14,)  and  that 
prophecy  seems  to  have  been  the  groundwork  of  this 
myth.  In  the  old  world,  it  was  erroneously  supposed, 
or  pretended,  that  great  men  were  the  descendants  of 
the  gods ;  for  example,  Hercules,  the  Dioscuri,  Romu- 
lus, Pythagoras,  and  Plato,  of  whose  remarkable  birth 
Jerome  speaks.  This  myth,  therefore,  grew  naturally 
out  of  the  common  Jewish  notions  at  the  time,  and  was 
at  last  written  down. 

He  next  examines  the  account  of  the  census,  and  the 
early  life  of  Jesus. 

Luke  informs  us  that  Augustus  Cresar  issvied  a  decree 
"  that  all  the  world  should  be  taxed,"  or  nvimbored  ;  but 
no  other  writer  mentions  a  general  census  in  the  time  of 
Augustus,  though  a  census  was  made  in  some  provinces. 
If  we  limit  the  term  "  all  the  world  "  to  Judea,  still  it 
is  improbable  such  a  census  was  made  at  that  time,  for 
the  Romans  did  not  make  a  census  of  conquered  coun- 
tries, until  they  were  reduced  to  the  form  of  a  province, 
and  Judea  did  not  become  a  Roman  province,  until 
after  tiie  disgrace  and  l)anishment  of  Arohelaus,  which 
event  took  place  after  he  had  reigned  ten  years  as  an 
allied  sovereign.     Luke   says   this   census   was   made 


STKAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS.  299 

when  Quirinus  was  governor  of  Syria.  Now  it  was 
not  Quirinus,  but  Sentius  Saturninus,  and  after  him, 
Quint.  Varus,  who  were  proconsuls  of  Syria  in  the  lat- 
ter years  of  Herod  I.,  and  it  was  some  years  after  his 
death  that  Quirinus  became  proconsul  of  Syria,  and 
actually  made  a  census,  as  Josephus  relates.  Luke  also 
refers  to  this  latter  census,  (Acts  v.  37,)  and  speaks  of 
Judas  the  Galilean,  who  rebelled  on  this  occasion,  as 
Josephus  informs  us.  Now  it  cannot  be  true,  that  Jesus 
was  born  at  so  late  a  period  as  the  time  of  this  census, 
under  Quirinus,  for,  —  not  to  mention  the  chronological 
difficulties  this  hypothesis  would  create  in  the  latter 
years  of  Jesus,  —  this  census  could  not  have  extended 
to  Galilee,  the  residence  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  for  that 
state  was  governed  by  Herod  Antipas,  in  the  capacity 
of  allied  Prince,  and  accordingly  was  not  a  province  ; 
therefore,  Joseph  would  not  be  summoned  to  Judea 
when  the  census  of  that  province  was  taken.  Still 
further,  it  is  not  probable  the  Romans  would  assemble 
the  citizens  together  by  families  in  the  birthplace  of 
the  founder  of  the  family,  to  enroll  them. 

One  evangelist  makes  Joseph  live  at  Bethlehem, 
the  other  at  Nazareth.  Now  the  design  of  the  author, 
in  placing  the  birth  of  Jesus  at  Bethlehem,  is  obvious. 
He  wished  the  prophecy  in  Micah,  (v.  2.)  to  be  fulfilled 
in  Jesus,  for  the  Jews  applied  it  to  the  Messiah.  The 
author,  setting  out  from  the  opinion  that  Joseph  and 
Mary  dv^^elt  at  Nazareth,  sought  for  some  natural 
errand  to  bring  them  to  Bethlehem.  He  found  a  suit- 
able occasion  in  the  well-known  census  of  Quirinus  ; 
but  not  understanding  accurately  the  circumstances  of 
the  time  and  place,  he  has  brought  hopeless  confusion 
into  the  narrative,  if  it  is  taken  for  genuine  history.  We 
have,  therefore,  no  reason,  concludes  Mr.  Strauss,  for  be- 


300  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

lieving  Jesus  was  born  at  Bethlehem,  for  the  story  is  a 
myth. 

Other  circumstances  in  this  narrative  present  diffi- 
culties. What  purpose,  asks  Mr.  Strauss,  is  served  by 
the  angels,  who  appear  at  the  birth  of  Jesus  ?  *  It 
could  not  be  to  publish  the  fact ;  nor  to  reward  the  be- 
lieving shepherds,  who,  like  Simeon,  were  waiting  for 
the  consolation,  nor  yet  to  glorify  the  unconscious  infant. 
They  seem  sent  to  the  shepherds,  because  they  were 
supposed  to  be  more  simple  and  religious  than  the  arti- 
ficial Pharisees.  Similar  objections  may  be  made  to 
the  story  of  the  magi,  who,  it  is  presupposed,  knew  be- 
forehand, as  astrologers,  that  a  king  of  the  Jews  was  to 
be  born.  A  miraculous  star  guides  them  ;  but  a  star 
does  not  change  its  position  relatively  to  earthly  places, 
and  a  meteor  does  not  appear  so  long  as  this  guide 
seems  to  have  done.  The  conduct  of  Herod  is  not 
consistent  with  his  shrewdness,  for  he  sends  no  officer 
with  the  masi  to  seize  the  new-born  Messiah.     The 


*  Mr.  Noi'ton,  (p.  Ixi.  of  the  additional  notes  to  Ills  "  Genuineness 
of  the  Gospels,")  thus  disposes  of  these  difliculties  in  Luke's  narra- 
tive ;  "  With  its  real  miratdes,  the  fictions  of  oral  tradition  had  prob- 
ably become  bli-nded  ;  and  the  individual,  by  whom  it  was  committed 
to  writing,  probably  added  what  he  regarded  as  poetical  embellish- 
ments. It  is  not  necessary  to  believe,  for  example,  that  IMary  and 
Zachariah  actually  expressed  themselves  in  the  mythical  language  of 
the  hymns  ascribed  to  them  ;  or  to  receive  as  literal  history  the  whole 
of  the  account  respecting  the  birth  of  John  the  Baptist,  or  of  the 
diiferent  appearances  of  an  angel,  announcing  himself  as  Gabriel. 
With  our  present  means  of  judging,  however,  we  cannot  draw  a  pre- 
cise line  between  the  truth,  and  what  has  been  added  to  the  truth. 
But  in  regard  to  the  main  event,  the  miraculous  conception  of  Jesus, 
it  seems  to  me  not  difficult  to  discern  in  it  purposes  worthy  of  God." 
But  see,  on  the  other  hand,  the  opposite  opinion  of  Mr.  Stuart,  Amer- 
ican Bible  licpository  for  October,  1838. 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS.  301 

story  of  the  massacre  of  the  innocents  at  Bethlehem  is 
not  mentioned  by  any  ancient  author,  except  IMacro- 
bius,  a  writer  of  the  fourtli  century,  and  Tie  confounds 
it  with  Herod's  murder  of  his  son  Antipater.  The 
Rabbins,  who  never  spare  this  tyrant,  do  not  mention  it. 
True  it  was  but  a  drop  in  Herod's  sea  of  guilt,  but  it  is 
so  peculiarly  horrible  and  revolting,  that  they  would  not 
pass  over  it.  In  this  short  passage  there  are  four  mirac- 
ulous dreams  and  a  miraculous  star,  not  to  mention  the 
misinterpretation  of  the  Old  Testament.     (Matt.  ii.  23.) 

But  the  whole  story  is  mythical,  and  is  derived  from 
ideas  and  opinions  commonly  held  at  the  time.  The 
ancients  believed  a  heavenly  body  sometimes  appeared 
on  great  occasions ;  for  example,  a  comet,  at  the  birth 
of  Mithridates,  and  at  the  death  of  Julius  Csesar.  The 
Rabbins  assert  a  star  appeared  at  the  birth  of  Abraham. 
It  was  their  opinion  that  a  star  would  appear  in  the 
East,  and  remain  visible  for  a  long  time,  at  the  period 
of  the  Messiah's  birth.  Balaam  also  had  predicted  that 
a  star  should  come  out  of  Jacob.  In  ancient  times,  it 
was  supposed  stars  guided  men,  for  example,  ^neas, 
Thrasybulus,  and  Tiinoleon  ;  and  the  Jews  fancied  that 
a  star  conducted  Abraham  to  Mount  Moriah.  Isaiah 
had  foretold,  that  in  the  days  of  the  Messiah,  men 
should  come  from  distant  lands  to  worship,  bringing 
gold'  and  incense.  Again,  many  great  characters  of  an- 
tiquity had  escaped  from  imminent  peril ;  for  example, 
Cyrus,  Romulus,  Augustus,  and  Moses,  in  early  life. 
Abraham,  Jacob,  and  Moses  had  saved  their  lives  at  a 
later  age,  by  flight.  All  these  ideas  and  reminiscences, 
therefore,  appear  in  the  two  narratives,  which  are  differ- 
ent variations  of  the  same  theme,  though  they  have  no 
direct  influence,  one  upon  the  other. 

Matthew  passes  in  silence  over  the  entire  period, 
26 


302  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

from  the  return  from  Egypt  to  the  baptism  of  Jesus, 
and  Luke  mentions  but  a  single  circumstance  of  his  early 
life,  namely,  his  conversation,  when  twelve  years  old, 
with  the  Doctors.  But  this  event  cannot  be  historical ; 
for  it  is  not  probable  he  would,  at  that  age,  be  admitted 
to  a  seat  in  the  council  of  the  Rabbis.  His  reply  to 
»  his  parents  would  not  have  been  misunderstood,  if  the 
previous  events  had  taken  place  as  they  are  related. 
The  whole  story,  Mr.  Strauss  contends,  is  a  myth,  con- 
ceived to  suit  the  opinion,  that  great  men  are  remark- 
able in  their  childhood.  Thus,  in  the  Old  Testament, 
Samuel  is  consecrated  in  his  childhood;  the  latter  tra- 
ditions, which  Philo  and  Joseph  us  follow,  ascribe  won- 
derful things  to  Moses  at  an  early  age,  tt^)ugh  the  Bible 
knows  nothing  of  them.  Tradition  says,  that  Samuel 
prophesied  from  his  twelfth  year,  and  that  Solomon  and 
Daniel  uttered  wise  oracles  at  the  same  age ;  1  Kings, 
iii.  23,  seq. ;  Susannah,  vs.  45,  seq. 

The  next  chapter  treats  of  the  public  ministry  of 
Jesus.  We  pass  over  the  chronological  difficulties  re- 
lating to  the  ministry  of  .John  the  Baptist,  which  have 
been  carefully  collected  by  Mr.  Strauss,  and  come  to  his 
connection  with  Jesus.  The  baptism  of  John  seems 
based  chiefly  on  some  figurative  expressions  of  the 
Old  Testament,  according  to  which  God  would  wash 
away  the  sins  of  his  unregenerate  people,  before  the 
Messiah  came.  These  passages  could  easily  be  com- 
bined so  as  to  make  it  appear  that  baptism,  as  the  sym- 
.bol  of  repentance,  must  precede  the  Messiah's  coming. 

Luke  informs  us  that  John  was  a  kinsman  of  Jesus, 
and  that  their  respective  mothers  were  acquainted  with 
the  sublime  destiny  of  their  children,  even  before  the 
latter  were  borji.     Mattliew  knows  nothing  of  this,  \mst 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS.  803 

ascribes  to  John,  at  the  baptism  of  Jesus,  expressions, 
which  imply  a  previous  acquaintance  with  him;  for 
otherwise  he  would  not  refuse  to  baptize  Jesus,  on  the 
ground  of  his  own  unworthiness  to  baptize  a  being  so 
far  above  him.  These  two  gospels,  then,  agree  in  pre- 
supposing the  acquaintance  of  John  and  Jesus.  But 
the  fourth  Gospel  makes  John  distinctly  deny  the  fact, 
(i.  81-33.)  The  appearance  of  the  sign  first  assures 
him  of  the  appearance  of  Jesus. 

All  the  Gospels  agree  that  John  calls  himself  a  fore- 
runner of  the  Messiah,  and  that  he  was  convinced  Jesus 
was  that  Messiah.  But  Matthew  and  Luke  relate,  that 
after  his  imprisonment,  John  sent  two  of  his  disciples 
to  James,  to  ascertain  the  fact.  Now  if  he  was  con- 
vinced by  the  sign  at  the  baptism,  he  ought  still  more 
to  have  been  convinced  by  the  miracles  of  Jesus,  that 
he  was  the  Messiah.  He  could  not  have  sent  his  disci- 
ples to  Jesus,  in  order  to  strengthen  their  faith,  for  he 
did  not  know  Jesus  would  work  wonders  in  their  pres- 
ence, nor  would  he  compromise  his  own  assertion,  that- 
Jesus  was  the  Messiah ;  and  yet  if  he  himself  believed 
it,  he  would  not  urge  his  superior  to  declare  himself  im- 
mediately, but  would  leave  him  to  decide  for  himself. 

The  fourth  Gospel  contains  the  most  definite  expres- 
sions respecting  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus,  and  puts 
them  in  John's  mouth.  But  did  the  Baptist  consider 
him  an  expiatory  sufferer  ?  Did  he  ascribe  to  him  an 
antemundane,  celestial  existence,  as  the  Evangelist 
has  done  ?  We  find  no  proofs  of  it,  except  in  this 
fourth  Gospel.  Now  it  is  not  probable  the  Baptist 
had  this  conception  of  the  office  and  nature  of  Jesus ; 
nor  is  it  probable,  that  he  made  the  reply  to  his  disci-  - 
pies,  which  this  evangelist  ascribes  to  him,  (iii.  27-36,) 
where  he  confesses  that  he,  (John,)  is  From  beneath, 


304  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

but  Jesus,  From  above,  the  One  Sent  by  God,  the  Son 
of  God,  Speaking  God's  words,  and  Born  of  God.  He 
must  increase,  and  I  decrease.  It  is  probable  that  the 
evangelist  put  these  words  into  John's  mouth,  but  not  that 
the  Baptist  ever  uttered  them  ;  for  if  he  had  so  deep  an 
insight  into  the.  nature  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the 
character  and  office  of  the  Messiah,  and  believed  Jesus 
to  be  that  Messiah,  the  latter  would  never  have  said 
that  men  so  rude  in  their  conceptions,  as  the  humblest 
of  his  disciples,  were  superior  to  John  the  Baptist;  for 
Peter,  the  very  greatest  of  these  disciples,  never  attained 
the  lofty  conception  that  Jesus  was  the  Son  of  God, 
the  "  Lamb,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 
Besides,  the  character  of  John  renders  it  incredible  he 
would  place  himself  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  the  very  op- 
posite of  himself  in  all  respects.  This  man  of  the 
desert,  rough  and  austere,  could  not  become  a  pattern  of 
the  profoundest  Christian  resignation.  A  man  on  a 
humbler  stand-point,  (like  that  of  John,)  cannot  com- 
prehend the  man  on  a  superior  stand-point,  (like  that  of 
Jesus).  If  this,  which  is  related  of  John  were  true,  "  It 
would  be  the  only  instance  on  record  of  a  man  belong- 
ing to  the  history  of  the  whole  world,  voluntarily,  and 
in  such  good-humor,  giving  up  the  reins  of  the  affairs 
he  had  so  long  directed  to  a  man  who  succeeded  him, 
only  to  cast  him  into  the  shade,  and  render  his  mission 
unnecessary."  The  fourth  Gospel,  then,  would  make 
the  Baptist  unlike  the  Baptist  of  the  Synoptics  and 
Josephus.  The  statement,  in  John  i.  29-35,  is  derived 
in  part  from  fancy,  and  partly  from  an  embellishment  of 
the  narrative  in  the  Synoptics. 

Now  the  origin  of  the  narratives  relating  to  the  Bap- 
tist, Mr.  Strauss  contends,  is  very  easily  explained. 
Paul  related  the  historical  fact,  that  John  spoke  in  the 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS.  305 

name  of  one  to  come,  and  added,  Jesus  was  that  one. 
Afterwards,  men  spoke  as  if  John  had  a  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  Jesus.  This  view,  thdugh  not  sup- 
ported by  facts,  pleased  the  early  Christians,  who  were 
glad  to  have  the  Baptist's  authority  on  their  side.  But 
there  seems  no  reason  for  believing  there  ever  was  such 
a  recognition  of  Jesus  on  the  part  of  John  ;  nor  is  it 
probable  that,  while  in  prison  on  the  charge  of  sedition, 
(as  Josephus  says,)  he  would  be  permitted  to  hold  free 
intercourse  with  his  disciples.  The  historical  facts  are, 
perhaps,  the  following :  Jesus  was  baptized  by  John ; 
perhaps  continued  for  some  time  one  of  his  followers  ; 
was  intrusted  by  John  with  the  idea  of  the  approaching 
Messiah.  After  John  was  cast  into  prison,  he  con- 
tinued to  preach  the  doctrines  of  his  master  in  a  modi- 
fied form,  and  afterwards,  when  he  rose  far  above  John, 
never  ceased  to  feel  and  express  a  deep  reverence  for 
him.  Now  we  can  trace  the  gradual  formation  of 
these  stories.  John  spoke  indefinitely  of  the  coming 
Messiah  ;  tradition  added,  that  he  proclaimed  Jesus  as 
that  Messiah.  It  was  thought  the  rumor  of  the  works 
of  Jesus  might  have  led  him  to  this  conclusion,  and, 
therefore,  Matthew's  story  of  the  mission  of  two  dis- 
ciples from  the  prison  was  formed.  But  since  Jesus 
had  been  a  disciple  of  John,  it  was  necessary  the  rela- 
tion should  be  changed,  and  this  purpose  is  served  by 
Luke's  stories  of  events  before  his  birth,  which  prove 
Jesus  is  the  superior.  But  these  accounts  were  not 
sufficiently  definite,  and,  therefore,  the  fourth  Gospel 
leaves  no  doubt  in  John's  mind  that  Jesus  was  the  Mes- 
siah, but  makes  him  give  the  strongest  assurance  of  this, 
the  first  time  he  sees  him,  and  ascribes  to  him  the  most 
distinct  expressions  touching  his  eternal  nature,  divinity, 
and  character,,  as  a   suffering   and   atoning    Messiah. 

26* 


306  Strauss' s  life  of  jesus. 

Now  the  accounts  of  John's  imprisonment  and  execu- 
tion are  easily  reconciled  with  one  another  and  with 
Josephus;  and  hence  we  see  that  his  life,  as  portrayed 
in  the  Gospels,  is  surrounded  by  mythical  shadows 
only  on  the  side  turned  towards  Jesus,  while  on  the 
other,  the  historical  features  are  clearly  seen. 

The  miraculous  events  at  the  baptism  of  Jesus,  Mr. 
Strauss  maintains,  also  present  difficulties.  The  Synop- 
tics mention  both  the  dove  and  the  voice ;  the  fourth 
Gospel  says  nothing  of  the  voice,  and  does  not  say, — 
though,  perhaps,  it  implies,  —  that  the  spirit  descended 
on  him  at  the  baptism.  The  lost  gospels  of  Justyn  and 
the  Ebionites,  connected  with  this  a  celestial  light,  or 
fire  burning  in  the  Jordan.  According  to  the  fourth 
Gospel,  John  was  the  only  witness  of  the  spirit  descend- 
ing upon  Jesus  like  a  dove ;  but  Luke  would  make  it 
appear  there  were  many  spectators.  Taking  all  the  ac- 
counts, there  must  have  been  some  objective  phenomena 
visible  and  audible.  But  here  the  cultivated  man  finds 
difliculties  and  objections.  Must  the  heavens  open  for 
the  divine  spirit  to  pass  through  ?  Is  it  consistent  with 
just  notions  of  the  infinite  spirit,  to  suppose  it  must 
move  like  a  finite  being  from  place  to  place,  and  can  in- 
corporate itself  in  the  form  of  a  dove  ?  Does  God 
speak  with  a  human  voice?  The  various  theories, 
naturalistic  and  supernaturalistic,  fail  of  removing  these 
difficulties.  It  cannot  have  been  an  aggregation  of 
natural  events,  nor  a  subjective  vision  of  John,  Jesus,  or 
tlu!  nmltitude. 

In  some  of  the  old  gospels  now  lost,  the  words, 
"  Thou  art  mij  beloved  son,''^  tVrc,  were  followed  by  these, 
"  This  da  1/  have  I  bcg-oUcu  thee.'"  Clement  of  Alexan- 
dria and  Augustine  seem  to  have  found  them  in  their 
copies,  and  some  manuscripts  of  Luke  still  contain  the 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS.  307 

words.  These  words,  (from  Psalm  ii.  7,)  were  supposed 
by  Jewish  and  Christian  interpreters,  to  relate  to  the 
Messiah,  in  their  original  application.  Now  to  make 
them  more  effective,  and  their  application  to  Jesus,  as 
the  Messiah,  the  more  certain,  this  story  naturally  grew 
up,  that  a  celestial  voice  applied  them  to  Jesus.  It  was 
perfectly  in  the  spirit  of  Judaism,  and  primitive  Chris- 
tianity, to  believe  .such  voices  were  addressed  to  men. 
Some  of  the  Rabbis,  it  is  said,  received  them  not  rarely. 
Still  farther,  Joel  and  Isaiah  had  predicted  the  outpour- 
ing of  the  divine  spirit  in  the  days  of  the  Messiah.  This 
spirit  he  also  was  to  receive.  If  Jesus  were  the  Mes- 
siah, he  must  receive  this  spirit;  and  the  occasion  of  his 
baptism  afforded  a  very  favorable  opportunity.  But 
how  should  it  be  known  that  it  came  upon  him  ?  It 
must  descend  in  a  visible  form.  The  dove  is  a  sacred 
bird  in  Syria,  and,  perhaps,  in  Judea.  The  Jews  sup- 
posed the  spirit  of  God  "  moved  on  the  face  of  the  deep  " 
in  this  form.  The  dove,  therefore,  was  a  proper  symbol 
and  representative  of  the  divine  spirit.  These  features 
were  all  successively  united  in  a  mythus,  which  gradu- 
ally grew  up.  There  is,  then,  no  reason  for  doubting  that 
Jesus  was  baptized  by  John;  but  the  other  circumstances 
are  mythical,  and  have  been  added  at  a  later  date. 
Here  Mr.  Strauss  is  false  to  his  principles,  and  separates 
the  fact  from  the  drapery,  which  surrounds  the  fact. 

But  the  whole  story  of  the  descent  of  the  spirit  on 
Jesus,  continues  the  author,  seems  at  variance  with  the 
previous  account  of  his  conception  by  that  spirit.  If 
the  divine  spirit  was  the  proper  parent  of  Jesus,  why 
should  that  spirit  descend,  and  abide  upon  him  ?  It 
could  not  thereby  produce  a  more  intimate  union  be- 
tween them.  We  must  suppose  this  story  originated 
in  a  community  which  did  not  believe  the  supernatural 


308  Strauss' s  life  of  jesus. 

conception  of  Jesus  ;  and  in  fact  we  find  that  Christians, 
who  did  not  admit  the  supernatural  conception,  believed 
the  divine  spirit  was  first  imparted  to  Jesus  at  his  bap- 
tism, and  the  Orthodox  fathers  persecuted  the  old  Ebi- 
onites  for  nothing  more  rigorously,  than  for  maintaining 
that  the  holy  spirit,  or  the  celestial  spirit,  first  united 
himself  with  the  man  Jesus  at  his  baptism.  According 
to  Justin,  it  was  the  Jewish  notion,  that  a  higher  power 
would  be  first  imparted  to  the  Messiah,  when  he  was 
anointed  by  Elias.  This  seems  to  have  been  the  primi- 
tive belief;  but  afterwards,  when  reverence  for  Jesus 
rose  higher,  a  myth  grew  up  to  prove  that  his  Messiah- 
ship,  and  divine  sonship,  did  not  commence  with  his 
baptism,  but  with  his  conception ;  and  then  the  words, 
"  tliis  day  have  1  begotten  t/iee,''^  were  left  out,  because 
they  could  not  be  reconciled  with  the  Orthodox  view. 

The  story  of  the  Temptation  also,  Mr.  Strauss  con- 
tends, has  its  difficulties.  John  does  not  mention  it, 
but  makes  Jesus  appear  in  Galilee  three  days  after  his 
baptism,  while  the  Synoptics  say,  he  went  immediately 
after  this  event  into  the  wilderness,  and  fasted  forty 
days.  The  Synoptics  also  differ  slightly  among  them- 
selves. There  are  other  difficulties.  Why  did  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  subject  Jesus  to  this  temptation  by  a  visible 
Satan  ?  Not  to  ascertain  what  manner  of  spirit  he  was 
of;  nor  to  try  him,  for  his  subsequent  trials  \yere  suffi- 
cient. Again,  a  m-an  could  not  abstain  from  food  for 
forty  days.  Therefore  some  say,  tiiis  is  only  a  round 
number,  and  the  fasting  was  not  total  abstinence  from 
food  ;  but  this  theory  does  not  agree  with  the  text.  Still 
farther,  wherein  consisted  the  utility  of  this  fast  ?  But 
the  personal  devil  is  the  chief  stone  of  stumbling.  His 
visible  appearance  has  its  dilliculties.  How  could  the 
devil  liopc  to  seduce  Jesus,  knowing  his  superior  nature  ? 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OP  JESUS.  309 

and  if  ignorant  of  this,  he  would  not  have  taken  the 
pains  to  appear  visibly  before  him.  The  second  temp- 
tation could  offer  no  attraction  to  Jesus,  and  therefore 
is  not  consistent  with  the  alleged  character  of  the  devil. 
How  could  he  transfer  Jesus  from  place  to  place  ? 
Their  appearance  on  the  pinnacle  of  the  temple  would 
create  a  sensation.  Where  is  the  mountain,  whence  he 
could  show  Jesus  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world?  To 
say  the  loorld  is  Palestine,  with  its  four  provinces,  is  no 
less  absurd  than  to  maintain  with  Fritzsche,  that  the 
devil  showed  Christ  all  the  countries  on  the  map  of  the 
world.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  explain  this  story 
as  an  account  of  what  passed  in  the  mind  of  Jesus, 
either  in  an  ecstatic  vision,  occasioned  directly  by  God, 
or  the  devil,  or  by  his  own  natural  thoughts  arising  in  a 
dreamy  state,  when  he  spontaneously  transformed  the 
thoughts  into  persons  speaking  and  acting.  But  why 
should  the  Deity,  or  how  could  the  Devil  effect  this? 
To  suppose  it  was  the  result  of  his  own  natural  thoughts, 
implies  that  Jewish  notions  of  the  Messiah  had  a  strong 
influence  on  him  even  after  his  baptism.  The  merely 
natural  view  is  absurd.  Some  call  it  a  parable,  designed 
to  show,  that  no  miracle  is  to  be  wrought  for  the  man's 
self;  hope  of  extraordinary  divine  aid  should  not  lead 
to  rash  undertakings ;  and  an  alliance  with  the  wicked 
must  never  be  made  even  to  obtain  the  greatest  good. 
But  if  this  is  so,  why  does  it  not  wear  the  form  of  a 
parable?  It  is  easy  to  explain  it  as  a  myth.  The  Mes- 
siah was  regarded  as  the  concentration  of  all  that  is 
good,  and  the  devil  of  all  evil.  He  opposes  Jesus,  but 
can  at  farthest  only  produce  momentary  bad  thoughts, 
not  bad  resolutions.  Many  passages  in  Jewish  writings 
indicate  a  common  belief,  that  the  Messiah  would  be 
tempted  by  the  devil,  as  they  say  Abraham  had   been 


310  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS. 

before.  If  Jesus  was  the  Messiah,  he  must  encounter 
this  temptation,  which,  like  that  of  Hercules,  was  very 
suitably  placed  just  at  his  entrance  upon  active  life. 
The  scene  of  the  temptation  is  well  chosen,  for  the  wil- 
derness was  not  only  the  dwelling-place  of  Azazel, 
(Levit.  xvi.  9,  10,)  Asmodeus,  (Tobit,  viii.  3,)  and  the 
expelled  demons;  but  it  was  the  place  where  the  whole 
nation,  the  collective  son  of  God,  was  tempted  forty 
years ;  and  there  is  a  strong  analogy  betAveen  their 
temptations  and  that  of  Jesus.  The  story  was  gradu- 
ally formed  out  of  these  Jewish  notions,  without  the 
slightest  intention  to  deceive. 

There  is  a  striking  discrepancy,  Mr.  Strauss  affirms, 
between  the  Synoptics  and  John  in  respect  to  many 
parts  of  Christ's  ministry.  The  former  represent  him  to 
have  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  Galilee ;  while 
the  latter  places  him  in  Jerusalem  and  Judea.  From 
them  we  should  suppose  he  spent  all  his  life  in  Galilee 
and  the  Pera:^a,  before  his  last  visit  to  Jerusalem,  while 
John  relates  four  previous  journeys  to  that  place,  and  a 
visit  to  Bethany.  If  John  is  in  the  right,  the  Synoptics 
were  ignorant  of  an  essential  part  of  Christ's  ministry ; 
but  if  the  latter  are  in  the  right,  then  he  has  invented  a 
great  part  of  the  history,  or  at  least  transferred  it  to  a 
wrong  place. 

We  pass  over  the  chronological  and  many  other  diffi- 
culties. The  Synoptics  and  John  disagree  in  respect  to 
the  assumption  of  the  office  and  title  of  the  Messiah. 
According  to  John,  Jesus  confessed  early,  that  he  was 
the  Messiah,  and  the  disciples  remained  faithful  to  the 
conviction,  that  he  spoke  the  truth,  (i.  42,  46,  50.)  To 
follow  the  Synoptics,  he  did  not  take  this  title  until  a 
late  period  of  his  life;  he  supposes  a  special  revelation 
had  announced  the  fact  to   Peter,  (iNIatthew  xvi.  17,) 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS.  311 

and  charges  the  apostle  to  tell  no  man  of  it.  Two 
views  may  be  taken  of  the  case.  Jesus  was  a  follower 
of  John  the  Baptist,  and  after  his  teacher  was  cast  into 
prison  he  preached  repentance,  and  the  approach  of  the 
Messiah,  and  concluded  he  was  himself  that  Messiah. 
This  view  would  account  for  the  fact,  that  he  was  dis- 
turbed when  called  by  this  name,  and  therefore  forbid 
his  disciples  to  speak  of  him  in  that  relation.  But  since 
these  prohibitions  are  doubtful,  and  if  real,  they  may  be 
accounted  for,  without  supposing  Jesus  was  not  thor- 
oughly convinced  of  his  Messiahship,  for  it  cannot  be 
supposed  that  he,  who  made  such  a  revolution  in  the 
world,  as  no  other  man  has  ever  done,  ever  faltered  in 
the  midst  of  his  course,  in  his  conviction  that  he  was 
the  Messiah.  Since,  then,  he  must  have  had  a  clear 
consciousness  of  his  calling,  we  conclude  that  he  was 
convinced  of  his  Messiahship,  from  the  time  of  his  first 
appearance  in  that  relation,  but  was  somewhat  reserved 
in  expressions  of  this  conviction,  because  he  preferred 
his  disciples  should  gradually  learn  the  truth  from  the 
silent  testimony  of  his  life  and  works. 

The  Synoptics,  says  Mr.  Strauss,  never  speak  of  the 
preexistence  of  Jesus,  while  John  often  mentions  it. 
Now  the  preexistence  of  the  Messiah  was  an  article  of 
faith  with  the  Jews,  soon  after  Christ,  and  it  is  probable 
they  believed  it  before  his  time.  But  it  must  "remain 
doubtful  whether  Jesus  entertained  this  idea,  or  whether 
John  has  ascribed  it  to  him  without  any  authority. 

Mr.  Strauss  considers  the  story  of  the  woman  of  Sa- 
maria an  unhistorical  myth.  The  whole  scene  has  a 
legendary  and  poetic  coloring.  The  position  at  the  well 
is  the  "  idyllic  locality  of  the  old  Hebrew  stories."  The 
scene  is  the  same  as  in  the  stories  of  Eliezer,  Jacob,  and 
Moses,  all  of  whom  meet  women  at  a  well.     In  this 


312  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

case,  the  woman,  weak  and  good-humored,  who  had  had 
five  husbands,  but  then  had  none,  is  a  symbol  of  the 
Samaritan  people,  who  had  forsaken  Jehovah,  etc.,  etc 
This  story,  then,  is  only  a  poetic  account  of  the  ministry 
of  Jesus  among  the  Samaritans,  which  itself  is  not  a 
matter  of  history,  but  is  only  a  "  legendary  prelude  of 
the  extension  of  Christianity  "  among  that  people  after 
Christ's  death. 

But  we  must  press  on  with  more  rapid  wheels.  The 
calling  of  the  apostles  presents  numerous  difficulties,  for 
there  are  great  discrepancies  between  the  accounts  of 
John  and  the  Synoptics.  It  is  not  probable  Jesus  un- 
derstood the  character  of  men  at  first  glance  of  their 
persons,  (John  i.  46,  seq.,  though  the  Jews  expected  the 
Messiah,  odorando  judicarc,  as  Schottgen  has  it ; )  nor 
is  it  probable  the  disciples  would  immediately  forsake 
all  and  follow  him.  These  stories  are  mythical,  and 
evident  imitations  of  the  legendary  history  of  Elijah  and 
his  followers.  As  Elisha  left  his  oxen  and  ran  after 
Elijah,  (1  Kings  xix.  19,  seq.)  so  the  disciples  presently 
left  their  nets  and  followed  Jesus.  Elisha  received  per- 
mission to  go  and  take  leave  of  his  parents,  but  now  the 
call  of  the  Messiah  is  so  urgent,  that  he  rejects  a  young 
man  who  made  the  same  request,  (Luke  ix.  GO,  seq.) 
and  will  not  suffer  a  convert  even  to  go  and  bury  his 
father.  The  historical  fact  may  be,  that  some  of  his 
disciples  were  fishermen,  but  they  must  iiave  come 
gradually  into  their  connection  with  Jesus. 

John  does  not  mention  that  the  twelve  disciples  were 
sent  on  a  mission  ;  and  the  Synoptics  relate  nothing  o 
their  baptizing  converts  during  their  teacher's  life.  It  is 
probable  Jesus  had  a  body  of  tvclvc  disciples;  but 
Luke's  statement,  that  he  had  also  a  larger  circle  of 
seventy  disciples,  is  not  confirmed  by  any  other  evange- 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS.  313^ 

list,  by  the  book  of  Acts,  nor  by  any  Epistle.  It  is  evi- 
dently formed  in  imitation  of  the  story  oi ^evenly  elders 
in  the  Pentateuch.  The  accounts  of  Peter's  fishing' 
expeditions,  and  Christ's  miraculous  draught  of  fishes,, 
like  that  of  Pythagoras,  are  self-contradictory,  and  all 
mythical. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  Christ's  discourses 
in  John,  and  the  Synoptics;  they  have  but  few  expres- 
sions in  common ;  even  their  internal  character  is 
entirely  different.  The  latter  differ  among  themselves 
in  this  respect;  Matthew  gives  large  masses  of  dis- 
course, Luke  short  discourses  on  different  occasions,  and 
Mark  offers  but  a  meagre  report  of  his  sayings.  Mat- 
thew's report  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount  differs  very 
widely  from  that  of  Luke  ;  many  of  the  expressions  in^ 
Matthew's  report  are  obviously  misplaced  ;  for  example,, 
Jesus  could  not,  at  the  commencement  of  his  ministry, 
have  declared  that  he  came  to  fulfil  the  law  and  the 
prophets,  for  he  had  not  declared  himself  the  Messiah,  of 
whom  alone  this  was  expected.  By  comparing  all  the 
accounts  together,  we  see,  says  Mr.  Strauss,  that  "  the 
granulary  discourses  of  Jesus  have  not  been  dissolved 
and  lost  in  the  stream  of  oral  tradition,  but  they 
have,  not  rarely,  been  loosened  from  their  natural  con- 
nection, washed  away  from  their  original  position,  and 
like  bowlders  rolled  to  places  where  they  do  not  prop- 
erly belong.  By  this  comparison,  we  find  that  Mat- 
thew has  not  always  restored  the  fragments  to  their 
original  connection ;  but  yet,  like  a  skilful  collector, 
for  the  most  part,  has  made  an  intelligible  arrange- 
ment, joining  like  with  like  ;  while  in  the  two  other 
Gospels,  some  small  pieces  are  suffered  to  lie,  where 
chance  has  thrown  them,  in  the  chasms  between  large 
masses  of  discourse,    and  Luke  has  sometimes   given 

27 


31-4  strauss'b  life  of  jesus. 

himself  the  pains  to  arrange  them  artificially,  but  has 
not  been  able  to  restore  the  natural  connection."  Vol. 
I.  p.  63. 

We  pass  over  the  alleged  instructions  of  the  twelve, 
and  the  parables,  where  the  only  difficulty  lies  in  the  dis- 
crepancy of  the  several  narratives.  Mr.  Strauss  thinks 
the  controversial  discourses  of  Jesus  are  genuine,  be- 
cause they  correspond  so  closely  to  the  spirit  and  tone 
of  rabbinical  explanations  of  Scripture  at  that  time. 
The  discourses  which  John  ascribes  to  Jesus  present 
greater  difficulties.  Let  us  take  the  conversation  with 
Nicodemus.  He  is  not  mentioned  by  the  other  evange- 
lists. It  is  difficult  to  believe  that,  if  John's  account  is 
true,  so  distinguished  a  follower  of  Jesus  as  Nicodemus, 
would  be  omitted  by  Matthew,  an  immediate  disciple 
of  Christ,  —  to  follow  the  tradition.  Still  more  diffi- 
cult is  it  to  believe,  he  would  be  forgotten  by  the  oral 
tradition,  which  was  the  source  of  the  Synoptical  Gos- 
pels, which  remember  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  the 
two  pious  Marys.  This  difficulty  is  so  great,  that  we 
are  tempted  to  ask  if  it  is  not  more  natural  that  John  has 
followed  a  traditional  legend,  and  that  there  never  was 
such  a  man  as  Nicodemus  ?  The  Synoptics  relate  that 
the  mysteries  of  the  Messiah  were  understood  by  babes 
and  sucklings,  but  were  concealed  from  the  wise  and  pru- 
dent. They  mention  Joseph  of  Arimathea  as  the  only 
disciple  from  "  the  better  sort "  of  people.  John  says 
the  Pharisees  attempted  to  "  put  Jesus  down,"  by  say- 
ing, none  of  the  rulers  or  Pharisees,  but  only  the  igno- 
rant and  infamous  populace  believed  on  him.  Celsus 
subsequently  made  this  objection,  wliich  was,  no  doubt, 
often  brought  in  the  early  times  of  Christianity.  So 
long  as  only  the  poor  and  unlearned  embraced  this 
religion,  they  comforted  themselves  by  Christ's  blessings 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS.  'S15 

pronounced  upon  the  poor  and  simple ;  but  when  men 
of  "character  and  standing"  became  Christians,  they 
wished  to  find  others  of  their  own  class  among  the 
direct  disciples  of  Jesus.  Not  finding  any  such,  they 
could  say,  "  they  were  his  secret  followers,  who  came  to 
him  by  night,  for  fear  of  the  Jews,"  (John  xii.  42,  seq., 
xix.  39).  Joseph  of  Arimathea  was  one  of  this  class  ; 
but  more  than  one  such  was  needed.  Therefore  this 
story  was  formed  to  remove  the  difficulty.  The  Greek 
name  of  Nicodemus  clearly  indicates  his  connection 
with  "  higher  classes  "  of  society  in  Judea.  He  is  men- 
tioned only  in  John's  Gospel,  because  this  is  the  most 
modern,  and  was  composed  in  a  community  where  the 
above  objection  was  most  keenly  felt. 

But  this  is  only  a  conjecture ;  and  even  if  it  is  well- 
grounded,  it  should  excite  no  prejudice  against  the  con- 
versation itself.  This  may,  in  all  its  essential  features, 
be  a  genuine  discourse  Jesus  held  with  one  of  the  com- 
mon people.  It  is  incredible  that  a  Jewish  teacher 
should  not  have  understood  the  new  birth;  but  it  was 
for  the  interest  of  the  story  to  show  how  far  Jesus  rose 
above  other  Jewish  teachers.  They  were  but  fools  com- 
pared to  the  Great  Teacher.  Nicodemus  applies  to 
earthly  things  what  Jesus  asserts  of  heavenly  things. 
It  is  not  probable,  that  Jesus  really  spoke  in  the  manner 
John  relates,  for  this  manner  differs  from  that  of  the 
Synoptics.  There  he  dwells  on  particular  points,  "  with 
genuine  pedagogical  assiduity,"  until  he  has  completely 
explained  them,  and  then  passes  on,  step  by  step,  to 
other  instructions,  as  a  true  teacher  must  do.  But  in  the 
fourth  Gospel,  he  speaks  in  a  desultory  and  exaggerated 
manner,  which  can  be  explained  only  by  supposing  it 
was  the  narrator's  design  to  set  the  Teacher's  wisdom 
and  the  pupil's  ignorance  in  the  most  striking  contrast. 


316  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

John  makes  Jesus  speak  very  differently  from  the 
Synoptics  ;  for  example,  in  Matthew,  Jesus  defends  his 
violation  of  the  Sabbath  by  three  practical  arguments, 
the  example  of  David  eating  the  holy  bread,  of  the 
priests  sacrificing  on  the  Sabbath,  and  of  a  man  saving 
the  life  of  a  beast  on  that  day.  But  in  John  he  uses 
the  metaphysical  argument,  drawn  from  the  uninter- 
rupted activity  of  God ;  "  My  Father  worketh  hitherto." 
Besides,  there  is  the  closest  analogy  between  the  lan- 
guage of  Jesus  in  the  fourth  Gospel  and  that  of  John's 
first  Epistle,  and  those  passages  of  the  Gospel,  in  which 
either  this  evangelist  himself,  or  John  the  Baptist 
speaks ;  and  since  this  language  differs  from  that  of  the 
other  Gospels,  we  must  conclude,  the  words  belong  to 
John,  and  not  to  Jesus.  Perhaps  he  invents  suitable 
occasions,  (as  Plato  has  done,)  and  writes  down  his  own 
reflections  in  the  form  of  his  master's  discourses.  His 
frequent  repetition  of  the  same  thought,  or  form  of  ex- 
pression, is  quite  striking.  We  must  conclude  that  this 
evangelist  treated  the  authentic  tradition  in  the  freest 
manner,  and  in  the  tone  and  spirit  of  the  Alexandrians, 
or  Hellenists.* 

We  pass  over  a  long  statement  of  discrepancies  be- 
tween the  several  Gospels,  and  other  matters,  of  greater 
or  less  importance,  which  Mr.  Strauss  has  treated  with 
his  usual  freedom,  learniug,  and  dialectical  clearness  of 
vision.  His  explanation  of  the  several  stories  of  the 
sinful  women,  who  anointed  the  feet  of  Jesus,  is  quite 
ingenious,  to  say  nothing  more.  He  supposes  they  all 
grew    out   of  one   simple   story.     "  We    have,  then,  a 

*  In  tlie  tliird  edition,  p.  741,  lu'  adds;  "I  t-annot  maintain  tliat 
.Tolm's  disconrsos  contain  any  thing,  which  cannot,  decidedly,  be  ex- 
|ihiined  from  John's  cliaracter,  or  the  composition  of  the  gospel  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life." 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS.  317 

group  of  five  histories,  the  centre  of  which  is  the  narra- 
tive of  a  woman  anointing  Jesus,  (Matt.  xxvi.  6,  seq. ; 
Mark  xiv.  3,  seq).  John's  account  of  the  sinful  woman, 
(viii.  1,  seq.,)  and  Luke's  of  Mary  and  Martha,  (x.  38, 
seq.,)  occupy  the  extreme  right  and  left ;  while  Luke's 
picture  of  his  anointing  by  a  sinful  woman,  (vii.  36, 
seq.,)  and  John's,  by  Mary,  (xii.  1,  seq.,)  complete  the 
piece.  All  may  be  but  different  delineations  of  the  same 
event. 

We  come  next  to  the  miracles  of  Jesus.  Miracles  of 
various  kinds  were  commonly  expected  of  the  Messiah, 
who  was  to  surpass  all  the  former  prophets  and  deliver- 
ers. Now  Moses  had  furnished  food  and  water  in  a 
miraculous  manner ;  Elisha  had  opened  the  blind  eyes, 
healed  the  sick,  and  raised  the  dead.  The  prophets  had 
predicted  nearly  the  same  things  in  general,  and  some 
of  them  in  special,  of  the  Messiah,  (Isaiah  xxxv.  5; 
xlii.  7,)  and  according  to  the  Gospels  Jesus  did  more 
than  realize  these  expectations.  The  fact,  that  men  de- 
manded "a  sign"  from  him  proves  nothing  against  his 
miracles,  for  these  demands  seem  to  have  been  made 
after  a  display  of  miraculous  poM-er.  He  censures  the 
love  of  miracles ;  but  this  does  not  prove  he  would 
never  perform  one  on  a  suitable  occasion.  But  when 
he  says  no  sign  shall  be  given  unto  that  generation,  etc., 
Mr.  Strauss  concludes  he  refuses  to  perform  any  mira- 
cles whatever  before  any  of  his  contemporaries.  This 
statement  is  quite  inconsistent  with  the  miraculous  nar- 
ratives in  the  Gospels,  but  it  agrees  perfectly  well  with 
the  preaching  and  letters  of  the  Apostles;  for  there,  (ex- 
cepting a  general  statement  in  Acts  ii.  22,  and  x.  38,) 
the  miracles  are  passed  over  in  silence,  and  all  rests  on 
his  resurrection  ;  and  this  would  not  be  so  unexpected, 

27* 


318  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

nor  would  it  make  an  epdch  in  the  world,  if  Jesus  had 
previously  raised  more  than  one  from  the  dead,  and 
wrought  miracles  of  all  sorts.  Here,  then,  the  question 
is,  whether  we  are  to  explain  away  the  Gospel  accounts 
of  miracles,  for  the  sake  of  the  above  refusal  of  Jesus  to 
perform  them  ;  or  doubt  the  genuineness  and  authen- 
ticity of  this  refusal ;  or  in  consideration  of  that  refusal, 
and  the  silence  of  the  apostolical  writings  to  mistrust 
the  numerous  miracles  of  the  Gospels.  The  author 
devotes  above  two  hundred  and  fifty  pages  to  miracles 
in  general  and  particular.  We  shall  notice  only  some 
of  his  most  striking  remarks. 

It  was  a  common  opinion  of  the  Jews,  that  certain 
diseases  were  caused  by  demons ;  Jesus  himself  seems 
to  have  shared  this  opinion.  The  belief,  of  course,  is 
not  well  founded.  Some  of  the  accounts,  in  which  Je- 
sus is  said  to  expel  these  demons,  are  self-contradictory ; 
for  example,  it  cannot  be  true  that  there  were  tico  Ga- 
darene  madmen,  so  fierce  as  they  are  represented,  who 
yet  lived  together.  They  would  destroy  one  another. 
Mark  and  Luke,  with  greater  probability,  mention  but 
one  demoniac,  in  this  place.  These  several  accounts, 
which  conflict  with  one  another,  present  numerous  difli- 
•culties.  The  demoniac  knows  Jesus  is  the  Messiah  ; 
in  Matthew,  he  calls  out,  "  Hast  thou  come  to  torment 
me?  "etc.;  in  Luke,  he  falls  doivn.  and  jcnrships  Jeaus, 
and  in  Mark,  he  knoivs  hini-  at  a  dislance,  runs  to  him, 
and  does  homage.  JTere  is  a  regular  c-liniax  in  the 
Christian  tradition.  But  the  greatest  dilliculty  consists 
in  the  demon  entering  the  swine;  for,  as  Olshansen  has 
said,  the  Gadarene  swine  in  the  New  Testament,  like 
Balaam's  ass  in  the  old,  are  a  stone  of  stumbling,  and 
a  rock  of  offence.  If  we  trust  the  account,  the  demon, 
at  his  own  request,  was  transferred  from  the  body  of  the 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS.  319 

man  to  the  swine,  and  possessed  the  latter  as  he  had 
done  the  former.  Then  the  possessed  animals  rushed 
into  the  sea  and  were  drowned.  Here  the  conduct  of 
the  demon  is  inexplicable ;  he  entreated  not  to  be  cast 
out  into  the  deep,  but  casts  himself  into  it.  The  char- 
acter of  Jesus  is  impaired  by  this  story;  for  he  must 
have  known  the  result  of  suffering  the  demons  to  enter 
this  large  herd  of  two  thousand  swine,  and  the  conse- 
quent loss  their  owners  would  sustain.  He,  therefore, 
is  thus  made  "  accessory  before  the  fact,"  and  the  natu- 
ralistic and  supernaturalistic  theories  can  give  no  satis- 
factory explanation  of  the  difficulties.  But  considered 
as  a  mythical  story,  which  grew  naturally  out  of  the 
common  opinions  of  the  people,  it  is  easily  explained. 
It  was  commonly  supposed  that  demons  must  possess 
some  body,  and  that  they  preferred  impure  places;  there- 
fore the  unclean  bodies  of  the  swine  were  the  most  suit- 
able recipients  of  the  demons,  when  driven  from  the  man. 
Josephus  mentions  a  conjuror,  who,  to  convince  specta- 
tors that  he  really  expelled  demons,  ordered  them  to  over- 
turn a  vessel  of  water,  set  near  the  possessed  men,  as  they 
came  out  of  him,  which  they  did  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all  present.  Jesus  meant  to  give  a  similar  proof,  and  to 
render  the  proof  doubly  strong,  the  test  is  not  an  in- 
animate body,  placed  near  at  hand,  but  a  whole  herd 
of  swine,  "  a  good  way  off,"  which  the  demons  force 
to  rush  upon  certain  destruction,  contrary  to  the  in- 
stinct of  self-preservation  natural  to  all  animals.  This, 
then,  was  a  proof  of  the  expulsion  of  the  demons,  and 
of  their  perfect  subjection  to  Jesus.  Besides,  to  mag- 
nify the  powers  of  Christ,  he  must  not  only  cure  simple, 
but  difficult  cases.  Accordingly,  that  is  represented  as 
a  desperate  casa;  the  man  was  fierce  and  malignant; 
he  dwelt  naked  in  the   tombs,  and  broke    asunder  all 


320  STRAUSS'S    LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

chains  that  could  be  forced  upon  him ;  and  not  only 
this,  but  he  was  possessed  by  a  whole  legion  of  devils, 
thus  presenting  a  case  of  the  greatest  possible  difficulty. 
Matthew  gives  us  the  most  simple  form  of  the  legend, 
thus  constructed ;  Luke  renders  it  more  artificial,  and 
Mark  adds  still  further  embellishments  to  it. 

John  mentions  nothing  concerning  the  demoniacs  or 
their  cure.  Yet  he  must  have  shared  the  common  Jew- 
ish notions  on  this  point,  and  especially  if  they  were  the 
views  of  Jesus.  It  cannot  be  said,  he  omitted  these 
cases,  which  form  a  great  part  of  Christ's  miracles  in 
the  Synoptics,  because  it  was  unnecessary  to  repeat 
what  they  had  recorded,  for  he  more  than  once  allows 
himself  such  repetitions ;  nor  can  it  be  true,  that  he  ac- 
commodated himself  to  the  delicate  ears  of  his  Greek  con- 
verts, to  whom  demoniacal  possessions  would  be  offen- 
sive. It  seems,  therefore,  that  the  fourth  Gospel  was 
written  not  by  John,  but  by  some  one  who  drew  from 
the  Christian  tradition  as  received  by  the  more  refined 
Hellenists. 

Another  case  of  expelling  a  demon  is  evidently  an 
imitation  and  improvement  of  a  similar  case  in  the  Old 
Testament.  The  disciples  had  failed  in  their  attempt; 
but  Jesus  cures  him  at  a  word.  So  Elisha  restores  a 
dead  child  after  Gehazi,  his  servant,  had  tried  in  vain, 
(2  Kings,  iv.  29,  seq.).  Moses  and  Klislia  had  cured  the 
leprosy;  the  Messiah  must  do  the  same.  He  also  must 
literally  fulfil  figurative  predictions  of  the  prophets,  and 
give  sight  to  the  blind.  John  enlarges  upon  the  state- 
ments of  the  Synoptics,  and  makes  him  cure  a  man 
born  blind.  They  relate  that  he  cured  paralytics,  and 
increased  bread,  and  restored  a  dead  person;  but  John 
enlarges  these  wonders,  and  according  to  him,  Jesus 
cures  a  man  who  had  been  diseased  for  ^/uV/^-e?if//^  years. 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS.  321 

changes  water  into  ivine,  and  recalls  to  life  a  mQ.\\  four 
days  after  his  death,  when  the  body  was  on  the  verge  of 
dissolution.  ■^ 

Mr.  Strauss  supposes  the  accounts  of  Jesus  involun- 
tarily curing  such  as  touched  him,  —  as  it  were  by  a 
species  of  magnetic  influence,  —  and  even  persons  at  a 
distance,  whom  he  had  never  seen,  are  mythical  stories 
which   have  grown    out  of   the  popular   reverence  for 
Jesus.     He  places  them  on  a  level  with  similar  stories 
in  the  Acts,  of  miraculous  cures   wrought   by  Peter's 
shadow,  and  Paul's  handkerchiefs  and  aprons,  (Acts  v. 
15;  xix.  11,  12).    "  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  what  causes 
have  produced  this  branch  of  the  gospel  legends  of  mir- 
acles, in  distinction  from  the  others.    The  weak  faith  of 
the  people,  unable  to  grasp  the  Divine  Spirit  with  the 
thoughts,  strives  to  bring  it  down  more  and  more  to  the 
level  of  material  existence.     Therefore,  according  to  the 
later  opinion,  the  reliques  and  bones  of  a  saint  must 
work  miracles^  after  his  death ;  Christ's  body  must  be 
actually  present  in  the  transubstantiated  bread  and  wine, 
and  for  the  same  reason,  according  to  the  earlier  opinion, 
the  sanatory  power  of  the  New-Testament-men  adhered 
to  their  bodies,  and  even  their  garments.     The  less  men 
understand  and  adhere  to  the  words  of  Jesus,  the  more 
anxious  will  they  be  to  seize  upon  his  mantle,  and  the 
further  one  is  removed  from  sharing  Paul's  unconfined 
spiritual  power,  the  more  confidently  will  he  carry  home 
Paul's  gift  of  healing  in  his  pocket-handkerchief." 

Mr.  Strauss  examines  the  several  accounts  where 
Jesus  is  said  to  raise  the  dead,  and  finds  a  climax  in 
the  three  instances  mentioned  ;  first,  he  restores  a  girl, 
on  the  bed  where  she  had  died ;  next,  a  young  man  in 
his  coffin,  before  burial ;  and  finally,  Lazarus,  who  had 
been  dead  four  days,  and  icas  in  the  tomb.     He  enumer- 


822  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

ates  all  the  difficulties  that  beset  a  literal  or  mystical, 
natural  or  supernatural  interpretation  of  the  passages, 
and  concludes  that  all  the  stories  grew  out  of  popular 
notions  of  the  Messiah,  or  are  copied  from  the  similar 
stories  of  Elisha's  wonderful  works  (1  Kings  xvii.  7; 
2  Kings  iv.  18),  or  from  the  predictions  of  the  prophets. 

He  collects  and  dwells  upon  the  difficulties  of  the 
alleged  transfiguration  of  Jesus.  What  was  the  use 
of  this  scene  ?  Not  to  glorify  Jesus,  for  his  physical  glo- 
rification is  unnecessary  and  childish.  Why  or  how 
could  Moses  and  Elijah  appear  to  him,  and  for  what 
purposes?  not  to  inform  Jesus  of  his  death;  he  had 
himself  foretold  it;  not  to  strengthen  him  for  future 
troubles,  for  it  did  not  effect  this  object;  and  we  do  not 
know  that  he  needed  aid  at  that  time;  not  to  confirm 
his  disciples,  for  only  three  were  present,  and  they  were 
asleep,  and  were  not  permitted  to  relate  the  events 
until  after  the  resurrection.  Does  God,  speak  in  an 
audible  voice,  and  quote  from  the  Old  Testament? 
The  theories  of  interpreters  of  the  various  schools  are  in 
part  absurd,  and  all  inadequate  to  remove  the  difficul- 
ties. But  the  whole  story  has  grown  out  of  the  Messi- 
anic expectations  of  the  Jews,  and  an  imitation  of 
scenes  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  Jews  expected  the 
Messiah  would  appear  with  a  face  far  more  resplendent 
than  that  of  Moses,  —  "a  mere  man;"  his  splendor 
would  extend  "from  one  hinge  of  the  world  to  the 
other,"  was  the  poetic  expression.  Moses  had  been 
glorified  on  a  mountain;  God  had  appeared  to  him  in 
a  cloud.  The  same  scene  is  repeated,  and  Jesus  is 
glorified  on  a  mountain,  in  presence  of  the  two  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Jewish  system,  who  were  expected  to 
appear.     Moses  and  Elijah,  the  founders  of  the  theo- 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS.  323 

cratical  law,  and  of  theocratical  prophecy,  appear  as 
the  supporters  of  the  Messiah,  who  fulfils  ^he  law  and 
the  prophets,  and  completes  the  kingdom  of  God.  God 
appears  in  the  clouds;  and  acknowledges  him  as  his 
son,  by  a  quotation  from  the  Law,  the  Psalms,  and  the 
Prophets.     (Ps.  ii.  7;  Isa.  xlii.  1;  and  Deut.  xviii.  15). 

We  will  now  mention  only  the  death,  and  final  scenes 
of  the  life  of  Jesus.  Mr.  Strauss  thinks  he  could  not 
have  had  so  accurate  a  foreknowledge  of  the  manner  of 
his  suffering  and  death,  as  the  evangelists  would  lead 
us  to  suppose.  The  prediction  was  written  after  the 
event.  Jesus  could  not  definitely  have  foretold  his 
resurrection  from  the  dead,  for  then  the  disciples  would 
have  expected  the  event.  But  after  the  crucifixion  they 
anoint  the  body,  as  if  it  was  to  become  the  "  prey  of 
dissolution."  When  they  repair  to  the  grave,  they 
think  not  of  a  resurrection  ;  their  only  concern  is,  who 
shall  roll  away  the  stone  from  the  mouth  of  the  tomb  ? 
Not  finding  the  body,  they  think  it  has  been  stolen. 
When  the  women  mention  the  angels  they  had  seen,  it 
is  idle  talk  to  the  disciples;  when  Mary  Magdalene, 
and  two  others,  assured  the  disciples  they  had  seen  the 
"risen  Jesus,'*  their  words  produced  no  belief.  It  is 
only  when  Jesus  appears  in  person,  and  upbraids  them 
for  their  unbelief,  that  they  assert  as  a  fact,  what  they 
would  have  foreknown  if  he  had  predicted  it.  A  fore- 
knowledge or  prediction  of  this  event  was  ascribed  to 
Jesus  after  the  result,  not  from  any  intention  to  deceive, 
but  by  a  natural  mistake.  He  thinks,  however,  that 
Jesus  actually  predicted  his  own  second  coming,  in 
the  clouds  of  Heaven,  the  destruction  of  the  Jewish 
state,  and  the  end  of  the  world ;  all  of  which  were  to 
take  place  before  his  contemporaries  should  pass  away. 


324  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS. 

Here,  following  the  Wolfenbiittel  Fragmentist,  he  says 
there  is  no  jjrophecy  in  the  whole  Bible  so  distinct  and 
definite  as  this,  and  yet  it  is  found  obviously  and 
entirely  false.  We  attempt  to  fill  up  the  great  gulf 
between  this  prediction  and  the  fact,  and  our  hope  of 
success  shows  how  easy  it  must  have  been  for  the 
author  of  these  predictions  to  siappose,  that  soon  after 
the  destruction  of  the  Jewish  state, —  supposed  to  be 
the  central  point  of  the  world,  —  the  whole  earth  should 
come  to  an  end,  and  the  Messiah  appear  to  judge  man- 
kind. 

John,  who  is  supposed  to  have  written  later  than  the 
others,  does  not  mention  so  distinctly  these  predictions, 
because  they  had  not  come  to  fulfilment  as  it  was  ex- 
pected. Mr.  Strauss  thinks  Jesus  at  last  saw  that  his 
death  v^as  inevitable,  and  designated  the  next  passover 
as  the  probable  e<id  of  his  life,  and  while  at  table  with 
his  disciples  gave  them  the  bread  and  wine,  either  as 
the  symbols  of  his  body,  soon  to  be  broken  by  death, 
and  of  his  blood,  soon  to  be  shed  ;  or  as  a  memorial  of 
himself.  He  considers  as  mythical  the  account  of  his 
going  three  times  to  pray,  and  repeating  the  same  words 
at  Gethsemane,  as  well  as  that  of  the  angel's  visit,  and 
the  bloody  sweat. 

Many  of  the  circumstances  which,  it  is  related,  ac- 
companied the  trial  and  crucifixion,  he  sets  aside  as 
mythical  additions,  borrowed  in  i)art  from  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. He  maintains  that  the  supernatural  appear- 
ances at  the  death  of  Jesus;  the  sudden  and  miracu- 
lous darkness ;  the  resurrection  of  the  bodies  of  the 
saints;  the  earthquake;  and  the  rending  of  the  veil, 
have  all  grown  up  in  the  mythical  fashion.  The  latter 
is  symbolical  of  removing  the  wall  of  separation  be- 
tween  tlie    Gentiles   and    Jews.     He   thinks   it   quite 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS.  325'^ 

improbable  the  Jews  would  set  a  guard  over  the  tomb, 
as  it  is  not  probable  they  had  heard  of  the-  promise  of 
Jesus  to  rise  from  the  dead  ;  a  promise  which  the  disci- 
ples themselves  did  not  remember,  until  after  it  was 
fulfilled.  The  Jews,  he  thinks,  in  later  times,  pretended' 
that  Jesus  did  not  rise  from  the  dead,  but  that  his  dis- 
ciples stole  the  body  by  night,  secreted  it,  and  then  pre- 
tended he  was  risen ;  and  the-  Christians,  to  counteract 
this  statement,  gradually  formed  the  evangelical  narra- 
tive, that  the  door  of  the  tomb  was  sealed,  and  a  guard 
set  over  it;  but  Jesus  was  raised,  and  to  throw  dust  in 
the  eyes  of  the  people,  the  great  national  council  bribed 
the  soldiers  to  assent  to  a  very  improbable  falsehood,, 
that  the  disciples  stole  the  body,  while  they  slept.  But 
it  is  not  probable  a  body  of  seventy  men  would  conde- 
scend to  such  open  wickedness,  with  the  almost  certain 
chance  of  detection. 

He  enlarges  at  great  length,  and  with  acuteness,  and' 
some  "  special  pleading,"  which  is  not  altogether  rare  in. 
the  book,  on  the  confusion  of  the  statements  in  the  four 
Gospels  concerning  the  time,  place,  and  circumstances 
of  the  resurrection,  and  the  several  appearances  of  Jesus, . 
after  that  event,  passing  through  closed  doors;  appear- 
ing under  various  forms,  and,  like  a  spirit,  remaining 
with  them  but  a  short  time,  and  then  vanishing    out 
of  sight.     But  the  fact  of   the  resurrection  itself,  Mr. 
Strauss  says,  involves  difficulties,  and  cannot  be  admit' 
ted.     We  must,  then,  suppose,  with    the    rationalists^ 
either  that  he  was  not  dead;  or  that  the  resurrection 
did  not  take  place.     He  accepts  the  latter  part  of  the 
dilemma,  and  thinks  the  disciples  were  mistaken,  led 
astray  by  the  figurative  passages   in  the   Psalms   and) 
Prophets,  which  they  erroneously  referred  to  the  Messiah.. 
The  testimony  of  the  Gospels  and  the  book  of  Acts,  he 

28 


326  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

says,  is  so  inconsistent,  contradictory,  and  imperfect, 
that  we  can  place  no  dependence  upon  it,  and  that  of 
Paul,  which  is  consistent  with  itself,  and  of  great  weight, 
only  assures  us  of  his  own  conviction,  that  Christ  ros^e 
and  appeared  to  men,  and  even  to  himself.  But  Christ's 
appearance  to  Paul  was  entirely  subjective,  and  there  is 
no  reason  to  believe  he  supposed  Jesus  had  appeared  to 
others  in  an  objective  manner,  visible  to  the  senses.  Mr. 
Strauss  fancies  the  narratives  originated  in  the  follow- 
ing manner.  The  disciples,  thinking  the  Messiah  must 
remain  forever,  thought  he  must  have  arisen  ;  next,  they 
had  subjective  visions;  then,  in  a  high  state  of  enthu- 
siasm, they  mistook  some  unknown  person  for  him. 
Afterwards,  as  these  disciples  related  their  convictions, 
the  story  was  enlarged,  embellished,  and  varied,  until  it 
assumed  the  form  of  the  present  canonical  and  apocry- 
phal gospels.  The  ascension  to  heaven,  which  many 
have  hitherto  rejected  as  not  trustworthy,  is  regarded 
by  Mr.  Strauss  as  a  myth,  which  derives  its  ideas  from 
the  histories  and  predictions  of  the  Old  Testament,  and 
Jewish  tradition,  and  with  a  particular  reference  to  the 
alleged  translations  of  Enoch  and  Elijah. 

The  author  adds  a  "Concluding  Treatise"  to  his 
critical  work,  "  For  the  inv^ard  germ  of  Christian  faith 
is  entirely  independent  of  critical  investigations;  the 
supernatural  birth  of  Christ,  his  miracles,  his  resur- 
rection and  ascension  to  Heaven,  remain  eternal  truths, 
however  much  their  reality,  as  historical  facts,  may  be 
doubted."*  All  these  he  supposes  are  realized  not  in 
an  historical  personage,  but  in  the  human  race.  Man- 
kind have  unconsciously  projected  out  of  themselves 
the  ideal  of  a  perfect  man,  an  incarnation  of  God,  a 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  xii. 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS.  327 

personification  of  morality  and  religion.  This  Ideal 
has  been  placed  upon  Jesus,  a  man  distinguished  for 
great  virtue  and  piety.  But  neither  he  nor  any  man 
ever  did,  or  can  realize  the  Idea ;  it  must  be  realized  in 
the  race.  The  history  of  the  miraculous  conception, 
says  one  of  the  profoundest  of  the  Germans,  represents 
the  divine  origin  of  Religion  ;  the  stories  of  his  mira- 
cles, the  independent  power  of  the  human  soul,  and  the 
sublime  doctrine  of  spiritual  self-confidence.  His  res- 
urrection is  the  symbol  of  the  victory  of  Truth  ;  the 
omen  of  the  triumph  of  the  good  over  the  evil,  hereaf- 
ter to  be  completed.  His  ascension  is  the  symbol  of 
the  eternal  excellence  of  religion  ;  Christ  on  the  cross  is 
the  image  of  mankind  purified  by  self-sacrifice.  We 
must  all  be  crucified  with  him,  to  ascend  with  him  to  a 
new  life.  The  idea  of  devotion  is  the  ground-tone  in 
the  history  of  Jesus ;  for  every  act  of  his  life  was  conse- 
crated to  the  thought  of  his  Heavenly  Father. 

We  can  only  glance  at  the  contents  of  this  conclud- 
ing treatise.  It  gives  a  fundamental  criticism  of  the 
Christology  of  the  Orthodox,  the  Rationalists,  of  the 
Eclectics,  of  Schleiermacher,  Kant,  and  De  Wette,  and 
the  speculative  theology  of  Hegel  and  his  followers. 
He  points  out  the  merits  and  defects  of  these  various 
systems,  and  concludes  his  work  with  an  attempt  to 
reconcile,  in  some  measure,  his  own  views  of  Christ 
with  the  wants  of  religious  souls,  and  the  opinions  of 
others.  He  thus  concludes :  "  Setting  aside,  therefore, 
the  notions  of  the  sinlessness  and  absolute  perfection  of 
Jesus,  as  notions  that  could  not  be  realized  perfectly  by 
a  human  being  in  the  flesh,  we  understand  Christ  as 
that  person,  in  whose  self-consciousness  the  unity  of  the 
Divine  and  Human  first  came  forth,  and  with  an  energy, 
that,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  and  character,  di- 


3'28  STRAUSS'S  LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

minished  to  the  very  lowest  possible  degree*  all  limita- 
tions of  this  unity.  In  this  respect  he  stands  alone  and 
unequalled  in  the  world's  history.  And  yet,  we  do  not 
affirm,  that  the  religious  consciousness,  which  he  first 
attained  and  proclaimed,  can,  in  its  separate  parts,  dis- 
pense with  purification  and  further  improvement,  through 
the  progressive  development  of  the  human  mind."  f 

Having  thus  given  a  patient,  and,  we  hope,  faithful 
account  of  the  principles,  method,  and  most  striking 
results  of  tliis  celebrated  work,  it  may  not  be  amiss 
to  point  out  some  of  the  false  principles,  which  have 
conducted  the  author  to  his  extreme  conclusions,  though 
we  think  their  extravagance  answers  itself.  We  see 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  he  is  a  religious  man  in  his 
oicn  way ;  nay,  he  calls  himself  a  Christian,  and  so  far 
as  his  life  abides  the  test,  we  know  not  why  the  name 
should  1)6  withheld.  His  relignon  and  life  may  have  the 
Christian  savor,  though  his  theology  be  what  it  is.  We 
know  there  are  fascinations  which  a  paradox  presents  to 
daring  souls,  and  we  are  told  there  is  a  charm,  to  a  rev- 
olutionary spirit,  in  attempting  to  pull  down  the  work, 
which  has  sheltered  the  piety,  defended  the  weakness, 
and  relieved  the  wants  of  mankind  for  a  score  of  centu- 
ries, when  it  is  suj^poscd  to  rest  on  a  false  foundation. 
Yet  we  doubt  not  that  INlr.  Strauss  is  honest  in  his  con- 
victions, and  has  throughout  aimed  to  be  faithful  and 
true.  We  cannot,  tiierefore,  as  some  have  done,  call 
him  "the  Iscariot  of  the  nineteenth  century;"  we  can- 
not declare  him  "  inspired  by  the  devil,"  nor  accuse  him 
of  the  "  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost;"  nor  say  that  he 


*  Bis  zum  verschvvindendcn  IMiniinum  zuriickdriingte. 
t  Vol.  II.  p.  771-779,  3d  edit. 


stkausb's  life  of  JESUS.  329 

has  "the  heart  of  leviathan,  hard  as  a  piece  of  the 
nether  mill-stone."  We  judge  no  man's  jxeart  but  our 
own.  However,  the  erroneous  principles  which  lead  to 
his  mistaken  conclusions  may  be  briefly  glanced  at. 

1.  He  sets  out,  as  he  says,  without  any  "  presupposi- 
tions.'' Now  this  is  not  possible,  if  it  were  desirable, 
and  not  desirable,  if  it  were  possible.  But  he  has  set 
out  with  presuppositions,  namely,  that  the  Idea  precedes 
the  man,  who  is  supposed  to  realize  that  idea  ;  that 
many  men,  having  a  certain  doctrine,  gradually  and  in 
a  natural  manner,  refer  this  doctrine  to  some  historical 
person,  and  thus  make  a  mythical  web  of  history.  He 
presupposes  that  a  miracle  is  utterly  impossible.  Again 
he  presupposes,  —  and  this  is  an  important  feature  of 
his  system,  —  that  the  Ideal  of  Holiness  and  Love,  for 
example,  like  the  Ideal  of  beauty,  eloquence,  philosophy, 
or  music,  cannot  be  concentrated  in  an  individual.  In  a 
word,  there  can  be  no  incarnation  of  God ;  not  even  of 
what,  in  a  human  manner,  we  call  his  Love,  or  Holiness. 
We  could  enumerate  many  other  presuppositions,  but 
forbear.*  He  explains  his  meaning  in  the  controversial 
replies  to  his  opponents,  but  does  not  satisfy  us. 

2.  He  passes  quite  lightly  to  the  conclusion,  that  the 
four  Gospels  are  neither  genuine  nor  authentic.  Per- 
haps it  is  not  fair  to  enumerate  this  among  his  presup- 
positions^ though  we  know  not  where  else  to  place  it; 
certainly  not  in  the  catalogue  of  proofs,  for  he  adduces 
no  new  arguments  against  them ;  decides  entirely  from 

*  See  UUmann,  Historisch  oder  der  Mythisch.  Beitrage  zur 
Beantwortung  der  gegenwiirtigen  Lebensfrage  der  Theologic  ;  Ham- 
burg: 1838,  p.  62,  seq.  De  Wette  1.  c.  Tholuck,  Glaub^urdigkeit 
der  evangelisclien  Geschichte  zugleich  eine  Kritik  des  Lebens  Jesu 
von  Strauss.  1838,  p.  26,  seq. 


330  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

internal  arguments,  that  they  are  not  true,  and  were  not 
written  by  eye-witnesses,  and  pays  no  regard  to  the 
evidence  of  Christian,  Heretical,  and  even  Heathen 
Antiquity  on  some  points,  in  their  favor.  The  genuine- 
ness of  Paul's  most  important  epistles  has  ever  been 
contested,  and  the  fact  of  the  Christian  Church  stands 
out  before  the  sun ;  but  the  convictions  of  the  one  and 
the  faith  of  the  other  remain  perfectly  inexplicable,  by 
his  theory.* 

3.  The  book  is  not  written  in  a  religious  spirit.  It 
will  be  said  a  critical  work  needs  not  be  written  in  a 
religious  spirit,  and  certainly  those  works, —  and  we 
could  name  many  such, —  which  aim  at  two  marks, 
edification  and  criticism,  usually  fail  of  both.  They 
are  neither  wind  nor  water;  are  too  high  for  this  world, 
and  too  low  for  the  next ;  too  critical  to  edify  ;  too  hor- 
tatory to  instruct.  That  anicular  criticism,  so  common 
on  this  side  of  the  waters,  deserves  only  contempt.  But 
a  philosophical  work  should  be  criticized  philosophi- 
cally ;  a  poetical  work,  in  the  spirit  of  a  poet,  and  a 
religious  history  in  a  religious  spirit.  The  criticism  of 
Schleiermacher  and  De  Wette  is  often  as  bold,  unspar- 
ing, and  remorseless,  and  sometimes  quite  as  destruc- 
tive, as  that  of  Strauss ;  but  they  always  leave  an  im- 
pression of  their  ))rofound  piety.  We  will  not  question 
the  religious  character  of  Mr.  Strauss;  a  Christian  like 
Dr.  Ullman,  his  own  countryman,  does  not  doubt  it; 
others  of  his  countrymen,  in  letters  and  conversation, 
inform  us  that  his  religious  character  is  above  reproach, 
and  puts  some  of  his  opponents  to  shame. 

*  See  the  necpssary  "presuppositions,"  laid  down  by  De  Wette, 
Kurzgefasstes  Exegetisches  Ilandbuch  zum  N.  T.  Vol.  I.  Th.  3, 
concluding  treatise  on  the  historical  criticism  of  the  Evangelical  His- 
tory; Lcip.,  1837.  p.  214,  seq. 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS.  331 

4.  His  mythical  hypothesis  has  carried  him  away. 
Fondness  for  theory  is  "the  old  Adam  of  theology," 
and  Strauss  has  inherited  a  large  portion  of "  original 
sin "  from  this  great  patriarch  of  theological  error,  — 
this  father  of  lies.  To  turn  one  of  his  own  war-ele- 
phants against  himself,  he  has  looked  so  long  at  mythi- 
cal stories,  that,  dazzled  thereby,  like  men  who  have 
gazed  earnestly  upon  the  sun,  he  can  see  nothing  but 
myths  wherever  he  turns  his  eye,  —  myths  of  all  colors. 
This  tendency  to  see  myths  is  the  Proton  Psendos,  the  first 
fib  of  his  system.  It  has  been  maintained  by  many, 
that  the  Bible,  in  both  divisions,  contained  myths.  Some 
of  his  own  adversaries  admit  their  existence,  to  a  large 
extent,  even  in  the  New  Testament.  But  with  them 
the  myth  itself  not  only  embodies  an  Idea,  as  Strauss 
affirms,  but  also  covers  a  fact,  which  preceded  it.  Men 
do  not  make  myths  out  of  the  air,  but  out  of  historical 
materials.  Besides,  where  did  they  obtain  the  Idea? 
This  question  he  answers  poorly.  Shaftesbury  long  ago 
said,  with  nmch  truth,  that  if  a  Hebrew  sage  was  asked 
a  deep  question,  he  answered  it  by  telling  a  story ;  but 
the  story,  for  the  most  part,  had  some  truth  in  it. 
Strauss  is  peculiar  in  carrying  his  theory  further  than 
any  one  before  him ;  yet  he  is  not  always  perfectly  true 
to  his  principjes;  his  humanity  sometimes  leaves  a  little 
historical  earth  clinging  to  the  roots  of  the  tree,  which 
he  transplants  into  the  cold  thin  atmosphere  of  the  "  Ab- 
solute." Taking  the  Bible  as  it  is,  says  good  Dr.  Ull- 
mann,  there  are  three  ways  of  treating  it.  We  may  be- 
lieve every  word  is  historically  true,  from  Genesis  to 
Revelation;  that  there  is  neither  myth  nor  fable  —  and 
this  is  the  theory  of  some  supernaturalists,  like  Hcng- 
stenberg  and  his  school;  or  with  Strauss,  that  there  is 
no  historical  ground,  which  is  firm  and  undeniably  cer- 


332  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OP   JESUS. 

tain,  but  only  a  little  historical  matter,  around  which 
tradition  has  wrapped  legends  and  myths;  or,  finally, 
that  the  Bible,  and  in  particular  the  New  Testament, 
always  rests  on  historical  ground,  though  it  is  not  com- 
mon historical  ground,  nor  is  it  so  ri'^idly  historical  that 
no  legendary  or  mythical  elements  hare  entered  it.  The 
two  former  theories  recommend  themselves,  for  their  sim- 
plicity ;  but  neither  can  be  maintained,  while  the  third 
is  natural,  easy,  and  offends  neither  the  cultivated  under- 
standing- nor  the  pious  heart. 

It  is  wonderful,  we  think,  that  some  of  the  absurdi- 
ties of  the  theory  Mr.  Strauss  supports  have  not  struck 
the  author  himself  He  reverses  the  order  of  things ; 
makes  the  effect  precede  the  cause ;  the  idea  appear  in 
the  mass,  before  it  was  seen  in  an  individual,  "  As  Pla- 
to's God  formed  the  world  by  looking  on  the  eternal 
ideas,  so  has  the  community,  taking  occasion  from  the 
person  and  fate  of  Jesus,  projected  the  image  of  its  Christ, 
and  unconsciously  the  idea  of  mankind,  in  its  relations 
to  God,  has  been  waving  before  its  eyes."  He  makes 
a  belief  in  the  resurrection  and  divinity  of  Christ  spring 
up  out  of  the  community,  take  hold  on  the  world,  and 
jjroduce  a  revolution  in  all  human  affairs  perfectly  un- 
exampled; and  all  this  without  any  adequate  historical 
cause.  No  doubt,  theologians  in  his  country,  as  well 
as  our  own,  have  attempted  to  prove  too  much,  and  so 
failed  to  prove  any  thing.  Divines,  like  kings,  lose  their 
just  inheritance,  when  they  aspire  at  universal  empire. 
But  this  justifies  no  man  in  the  court  of  logic,  for  reject- 
ing all  historical  faith.  If  there  was  not  an  historical 
Christ  to  idealize,  there  could  be  no  ideal  Christ  to  seek 
in  history.  We  doubt  if  there  was  genius  enough  in 
the  world  in  the  first  two,  or  the  first  twenty  centuries 
since  Christ,  to  devise  such  a  character  as  his,  with  so 


STRATJSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS.  333 

small  an  historical  capital,  as  Strauss  leaves  us.  No 
doubt,  we  commit  great  errors  in  seeking  |pr  too  much 
of  historical  matter.  Christian  critics,  says  De  Wette, 
will  not  be  satisfied  with  knowing  as  much  respecting 
Christ  as  Paul  and  the  apostles  knew.  No  one  of  them^ 
though  they  were  eye-witnesses,  had  such  a  complete, 
consistent,  and  thoroughly  historical  picture  of  the  life  of 
Christ,  as  we  seek  after.  Many  of  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians could  scarcely  know  of  Christ's  history  a  tenth  part 
of  what  our  catechumens  learn,  and  yet  they  were  more 
inspired  and  better  believers  than  we.  It  is  much  learn- 
ing, which  makes  us  so  mad;  not  the  Apostle  Paul.* 
But  if  we  cannot  prove  all  things,  we  can  hold  fast  to 
enough  that  is  good. 

Mr.  Strauss  takes  the  idea,  which  forms  the  subject, 
as  he  thinks,  of  a  Christian  myth,  out  of  the  air,  and 
then  tells  us  how  the  myth  itself  grew  out  of  that  idea. 
But  he  does  not  always  prove  from  history  or  the  na- 
ture of  things,  that  the  idea  existed  before  the  story  or 
the  fact  was  invented.  He  finds  certain  opinions,  proph- 
ecies, and  expectations  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  af- 
firms at  once  these  were  both  the  occasion  and  cause  of 
the  later  stories,  in  which  they  reappear.  This  method 
of  treatment  requires  very  little  ingenuity  on  the  part 
of  the  critic;  we  could  resolve  half  of  Luther's  life  into 
a  series  of  myths,  which  are  formed  after  the  model  of 
Paul's  history  ;  indeed,  this  has  already  been  done.  Nay, 
we  could  dissolve  any  given  historical  event  in  a  myth- 
ical solution,  and  then  precipitate  the  "  seminal  ideas  " 
in  their  primitive  form.  We  also  can  change  an  histor- 
ical character  into  a  symbol  of  "  universal  humanity." 


*L.  c.  p.  221. 


334  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

The  whole  history  of  the  United  States  of  America,  for 
example,  we  might  call  a  tissue  of  mythical  stories,  bor- 
rowed in  part  from  the  Old  Testament,  in  part  from  the 
Apocalypse,  and  in  part  from  fancy.  The  British  gov- 
ernment oppressing  the  Puritans  is  the  "  great  red 
dragon"  of  the  Revelation,  as  it  is  shown,  by  the  na- 
tional arms,  and  by  the  British  legend  of  Saint  George 
and  the  Dragon.  The  splendid  career  of  the  new  people 
is  borrowed  from  the  persecuted  woman's  poetical  his- 
tory, her  dress  —  "clothed  with  the  sun."  The  stars 
said  to  be  in  the  national  banner,  are  only  the  crown  of 
twelve  stars  on  the  poetic  being's  head ;  the  perils  of 
the  pilgrims  in  the  Mayflower  are  only  the  woman's 
flight  on  the  wings  of  a  great  eagle.  The  war  between 
the  two  countries  is  only  "the  practical  application"  of 
the  flood  which  the  dragon  cast  out  against  the  woman, 
etc.*  The  story  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  is 
liable  to  many  objections,  if  we  examine  it  a  la  mode 
Strauss.  The  congress  was  held  at  a  mythical  town, 
whose  very  name  is  suspicious,  —  Philadelphia,  —  Broth- 
erly Love.  The  date  is  suspicious;  it  was  the /o2<r^/t 
day  of  the  fourth  month,  (reckoning  from  April,  as  it  is 
probable  the  HeraclidjE,  and  Scandinavians;  possible 
that  the  aboriginal  Americans,  and  certain  that  the  He- 
brews did).  Now  four  was  a  sacred  number  with  the 
Americans;  the  president  was  chosen  for  four  years 
there  were  four  departments  of  affairs;  four  divisions  of 
the  political  powers,  namely,  —  the  people,  the  congress, 
the  executive,  and  the  judiciary,  etc.  Besides,  which  is 
still  more  incredible,  three  of  the  presidents,  two  of  whom, 

*  We  borrowed  this  hint  from  a  sermon  heard  in  childhood,  "  open- 
ing tliis  Scripture,"  and  explaining  this  prophecy,  as  relating  to 
America. 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS.  335 

it  is  alleged  signed  the  declaration,  died  on  ihe  fourth  of 
July,  and  the  two  latter  exactly  Jifty  years  after  they 
had  signed  it,  and  about  the  same  hour  of  tIRe  day.  The 
year  also  is  suspicious;  1776  is  but  an  ingenious  com- 
bination of  the  sacred  number,  four^  which  is  repeated 
three  times,  and  then  multiplied  by  itself  to  produce  the 
date  ;  thus,  444  X  4  =  1776,  Q.  E.  D.  Now  dividing 
the  first  (444)  by  the  second  (4),  we  have  Unity  thrice 
repeated  (111).  This  is  a  manifest  symbol  of  the  na- 
tional oneness,  (likewise  represented  in  the  motto,  e 
pluribus  unum)  and  of  the  national  relig-ion,  of  which  the 
Triniform  Monad,  or  "  Trinity  in  Unity  "  and  "  Unity  in 
Trinity,"  is  the  well-known  sign  I !  Still  further,  the  Dec- 
laration is  metaphysical,  and  presupposes  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  transcendental  philosophy,  on  the  part  of 
the  American  people.  Now  the  Kritik  of  Pure  Reason 
was  not  published  till  after  the  Declaration  was  made. 
Still  further,  the  Americans  were  never,  to  use  the 
nebulous  expressions  of  certain  philosophers,  an  "idealo- 
transcendental-and-subjective,"  but  an  "  objective-and- 
concretivo-practical "  people,  to  the  last  degree;  there- 
fore a  metaphysical  document,  and  most  of  all  a  "  le- 
gal-congressional-metaphysical "  document  is  highly  sus- 
picious if  found  among  them.  Besides,  Hualteperah, 
the  great  historian  of  Mexico,  a  neighboring  state,  never 
mentions  this  document ;  and  further  still,  if  this  Dec- 
laration had  been  made,  and  accepted  by  the  whole  na- 
tion, as  it  is  pretended,  then  we  cannot  account  for  the 
fact,  that  the  fundamental  maxim  of  that  paper,  namely, 
the  soul's  equality  to  itself,  —  "all  men  are  born  free  and 
equal,"  —  was  perpetually  lost  sight  of,  and  a  large  por- 
tion of  the  people  kept  in  slavery ;  still  later,  petitions, 
—  supported  by  this  fundamental  article, —  for  the  abo- 


336  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF   JESUS. 

lition  of  slavery,  were  rejected  by  Congress  with  unex- 
ampled contempt,  when,  if  the  history  is  not  mythical, 
slavery  never  had  a  legal  existence  after  1776,  etc.  etc. 
But  we  could  go  on  in  this  way  for  ever.  "  I  '11 "  prate 
"you  so  eight  years  together;  dinners,  and  suppers,  and 
sleeping  hours  excepted;  it  is  the  right  butter-ivomari's 
rank  to  market.^'  We  are  forcibly  reminded  of  the  ridic- 
ulous prediction  of  Lichtenberg,  mentioned  by  Jacobi ; 
"  Our  world  will  by  and  by  become  so  fine,  that  it  will 
be  as  ridiculous  to  believe  in  a  God,  as  now  it  is  to  be- 
lieve in  ghosts;  and  then  again  the  v^'orld  will  become 
still  finer,  and  it  will  rush  hastily  up  to  the  very  tip-top 
of  refinement.  Having  reached  the  summit,  the  judg- 
ment of  our  sages  will  once  more  turn  about ;  knowl- 
edge will  undergo  its  last  metamorphosis.  Then  —  this 
will  be  the  end  —  we. shall  believe  in  nothing  but  ghosts ; 
we  shall  be  as  God;  we  shall  know  that  Being  and  Es- 
sence is,  and  can  be  only,  —  Ghost.  At  that  time  the 
salt  sweat  of  seriousness  will  be  wiped  dry  from  every 
brow ;  the  tears  of  anxiety  will  be  washed  from  every 
eye ;  loud  laughter  will  peal  out  among  men,  for  Rea- 
son will  then  have  completed  her  work;  humanity  will 
have  reached  its  goal,  and  a  crown  will  adorn  the  head 
of  each  transfigured  man."* 

The  work  of  Strauss  has  produced  a  great  sensation 
in  Germany,  and  especially  in  Berlin.  It  has  called 
forth  replies  from  all  quarters,  and  of  all  characters, 
from  the  scurrilous  invective  to  the  heavy  theological 


*  Tills  quotation  seems  to  be  a  classic  commonplace  against  all  new 
schools.  Jacobi  applied  to  it  Idealism  and  Nature-Philosopliv,  and 
both  Tiioluck  and  Ilengstcnberg  cast  it  upon  Strauss.  A  writer  in 
the  Princeton  Repertory  "  sips  the  thrico-drawn  infusion,"  and  gives 
the  passage  a  new  application. 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE   OF   JESUS.  SS?" 

treatise.     It  has   been  met  by   learning  and  sagacity, 
perhaps   greater  than  his   own,  and  he  has  yielded  on- 
some  points.     He  has  retorted  upon  some  of  his  an- 
tagonists, using  the   same  weapons  with   which    they 
assailed  him.*     He   has  even  turned  upon   them,  and. 
carried  the  war  into  their  borders,  and  laid  waste  theif 
country,  with   the  old   Teutonic  war-spirit.     We   have 
never  read  a  controversy  more  awful  than  his  reply  to> 
Eschenmeyer  and   Menzel.     Porson's  criticism  of  poor- 
Mr.  Travis  was   a  lullaby  in   comparison.     But  he  has 
replied  to  UUmann,  —  a  Christian  in   heart,  apparently,, 
as  well   as  in  theology,  —  as  a  child  to  a  father.      His 
letters  to  this  gentleman  are  models  for  theological  con- 
troversy.    He  has   modified  many  of  his  opinions,  as 
his  enemies  or  his  friends  have  pointed  out  his  errors,, 
and  seems  most  indebted  to  Neander,  Tholuck,  Weisse,. 
UUmann,  and  De  Wette,  not  to  mention  numerous  hum- 
bler and  more  hostile  names. 

His  work  is  not  to  be  ranked  with  any  previous 
attacks  upon  Christianity.  It  not  only  surpasses  all  its 
predecessors  in,  learning,  acuteness,  and  thorough  inves- 
tigation, but  it  is  marked  by  a  serious  and  earnest  spirit. 
He  denounces  with  vehemence  the  opinion  that  the 
Gospels  were  written  to  deceive.  There  is  none  of  the 
persiflage  of  the  English  deists  ;  none  of  the  haughty 
scorn  and  bitter  mockery  of  the  far-famed  WolfenbiitteL 
Fragmentist.  He  is  much  more  Christian  in  expressing 
his  unbelief  than  Hengstenberg  and  many  others  in 
their  faith.  We  could  wish  the  language  a  little  more 
studied   in    some   places.     Two    or   three    times  he  is 


*  Streltsclinften    zur   Vertlieidigung    meiner    Kritik,    1837-8 ;  3o 
Hefte,  8vo. 

29 


338  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS. 

frivolous;  but  in  general,  the  style  is  elevated,  and 
manly,  and  always  pretty  clear.  We  do  not  remember 
to  have  met  with  a  sneer  in  the  whole  book.  In  this 
respect  it  deserves  a  great  praise,  which  can  rarely  be 
bestowed  on  the  defenders  of  Christianity,  to  their 
shame  be  it  spoken. 

The  work  derives  its  importance  not  more  from  the 
novelty  of  its  views,  than  from  the  fact  that  it  is  a 
concentration  of  objections  to  historical  Christianity. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  its  importance  has  by  no  means 
been  exaggerated.  It  is  sometimes  said,  had  the  work 
been  published  in  England,  it  would  have  been  forgot- 
ten in  two  months  ;  but  no  man  who  has  read  the  book, 
and  is  familiar  with  the  history  of  theology,  ever  be- 
lieves such  a  statement.  We  should  be  glad  to  see  the 
English  scholars,  who  are  to  measure  swords  with  a 
Strauss,  as  the  Cudworths,  Warburtons,  Sherlocks, 
Lardners,  and  Clarkes  encountered  their  antagonists  in 
other  days,  when  there  were  giants  among  the  English 
clergy. 

"  'Tis  no  •war  as  everybody  knows, 
"Where  only  one  side  deals  the  blows, 
And  t'  other  bears  'em." 

We  have  no  doubt  which  side  would  "  bear  the  blows  " 
for  the  next  five-and-twenty  years,  should  any  one  be 
provoked  to  translate  Strauss  to  a  London  public* 

We  cannot  regard  this  book  as  the  work  of  a  single 
man  ;  it  is  rather  the  production  of  the  age.  An  indi- 
vidual raised  up  by  God  discovers  a  great  truth,  which 

*  See  Observations  on  the  Attempted  Application  of  Pantheistic 
Principles  to  the  Theory  and  Historic  Criticism  of  the  Gospel,  etc., 
by  W.  II.  Mill,  D.  D.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,  and  Chaplain  to  his  Grace  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury.     Parti.     London,  1840. 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS.  339 

makes  an  epoch,  and  by  its  seminal  character  marks 
the  coming  ages.  But  a  book  like  this,  which  denotes 
merely  a  crisis,  a  revolution,  is  the  aggregate  of  many 
works.  Like  Kant's  Kritik,  it  is  the  necessary  result  of 
the  great  German  movement,  as  much  so  as  Spinoza's 
theological  treatises  were  of  the  Cartesian  principles ; 
and,  indeed,  the  position  of  Strauss  is  in  many  respects 
not  unlike  that  of  Spinoza.  Both  mark  a  crisis  ;  both 
struck  at  the  most  deeply  cherished  theological  doc- 
trines of  their  times.  Before  mankind  could  pass  over 
the  great  chasm  between  the  frozen  realm  of  stiff  super- 
naturalism,  and  lifeless  rationalism,  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  fair  domain  o^  free,  religions  thovght,  where  the 
only  essential  creed  is  the  Christian  motto,  "  Be  perfect, 
as  your  Father  in  Heaven  is  perfect,"  and  the  only 
essential  form  of  Religion  is  Love  to  your  neighbor  as 
to  yourself,  and  to  God  with  the  whole  heart,  mind, 
and  soul,  on  the  other,  —  some  one  must  plunge  in, 
devoting  himself  unconsciously,  or  even  against  his 
will,  for  the  welfare  of  the  race.  This  hard  lot  Strauss 
has  chosen  for  himself,  and  done  what  many  wished  to 
have  done,  but  none  dared  to  do.  His  book,  therefore, 
must  needs  be  negative,  destructive,  and  unsatisfactory. 
Mr.  Strauss  must  not  be  taken  as  the  representative  of 
the  German  theologians.  Men  of  all  parties  condemn 
his  work ;  and  men  of  all  parties  accept  it.  You  see 
its  influence  in  the  writings  of  Tholuck,  De  Wette, 
and  Neander;  men  that  have  grown  old  in  being  taught 
and  teaching.  The  liberal  party  has  fallen  back,  afraid 
of  its  principles  ;  the  stationary  party  has  come  forward, 
though  reluctantly.  The  wonderful  ability  with  which 
it  is  written,  the  learning,  so  various  and  exact,  where- 
with it  is  stored,  are  surprising  in  any  one,  but  truly 
extraordinary  in  so  juvenile  an  author;  born  1808.    For 


340  STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF  JESUS. 

our  own  part,  we  rejoice  that  the  book  has  been  written, 
though  it  contains  much  that  we  cannot  accept.  May 
the  evil  it  produces  soon  end !  But  the  good  it  does 
must  last  forever.  To  estimate  it  aright,  we  must  see 
more  than  a  negative  work  in  its  negations.  Mr.  Strauss 
has  plainly  asked  the  question,  "  What  are  the  histori- 
cal facts  that  lie  at  the  basis  of  the  Christian  move- 
ment ?  "  Had  he  written  with  half  this  ability,  and 
with  no  manner  of  fairness,  in  defence  of  some  popular 
dogma  of  his  sect,  and  against  freedom  of  thought  and 
reason,  no  praise  would  have  been  too  great  to  bestow 
upon  him.  What  if  he  is  sometimes  in  error  ;  was  a  theo- 
logian never  mistaken  before  ?  What  if  he  does  push  his 
mythical  hypothesis  too  far ;  did  Luther,  Zwingle,  Cal- 
vin, make  no  mistakes?  Did  they  commit  no  sins? 
Yet  Strauss,  we  think,  has  never  cursed,  and  are  certain 
that  he  never  burned  an  oppo)ientI  We  honor  the 
manly  openness  which  has  said  so  plainly  what  was  so 
strongly  felt.  We  cannot  say,  as  a  late  highly  dis- 
tinguished divine  used  to  say,  that  we  "  should  not  be 
sorry  to  see  the  work  republished  here,"  because  there 
is  no  general  theological  scholarship  to  appreciate  its 
merits  and  defects.  With  many  of  his  doctrines,  as  we 
understand  them,  especially  his  dogmas  relative  to  Cod 
and  Immortality,  we  have  no  sympathy;  but  as  litde 
fear  that  they  will  do  a  permanent  injury  anywhere. 
We  still  believe  our  real  enemies  are  "the  Flesh  and 
the  Devil,"  and  that  neither  the  philosophy  of  Hegel, 
nor  the  Biblical  Criticism  of  the  Germans  will  ever 
weaken  the  popular  faith  in  God  or  man,  or  the  pure 
religion  that  mediates  between  the  two.  Strauss  has 
thrown  a  huge  stone  into  the  muddy  pool  of  theology, 
and  it  will  be  long  before  its  splashing  waters  find  their 
former   repose    and    level.     Let    it    not    be    supposed 


STRAUSS'S   LIFE    OF   JESUS.  341 

Strauss  is  an  exponent  of  the  German  school  of  theol- 
ogy or  religion  as  it  is  sometimes  unwisely>*irged.  He 
is  a  single  elemegt  in  a  vast  mass.  His  work  finds  op- 
ponents in  the  leaders  of  the  three  great  Protestant 
theological  parties  in  Germany.  The  main  body  of 
theologians  there  is  represented  by  Schleiei-macher, 
Tholuck,  Neander,  De  Wette,  and  men  of  a  similar 
spirit.  Strauss  is  the  representative  of  a  small  party. 
He  is  by  no  means  the  representative  of  the  followers 
of  Hegel,  many  of  whom  are  opposed  to  him.* 

The  whole  book  has  the  savor  of  Pantheism  pervad- 
ing it,  as  we  think,  using  Pantheism  in  its  best  sense,  if 
our  readers  can  find  a  good  sense  for  it.  He  does  not 
admit  a  personal  God,  we  are  told,  and,  therefore, 
would  not  admit  of  a  personal  Christ,  or  incarnation  of 
God.  This,  we  suspect,  is  the  sole  cause  of  his  aver- 
sion to  personalities.  But  he  nowhere  avows  this 
openly  and  plainly ;  we,  therefore,  only  give  it  as  our 
conjecture,  though  Tholuck  openly  calls  him  a  Panthe- 
ist of  the  school  of  Hegel,  defining  that  school  "  Athe- 
istic ; "  while  Ullmann  brings  the  same  charge,  but 
with  much  more  modesty,  asking  men  to  translate  it 
more  mildly  if  they  can. 

We  are  not  surprised  at  the  sensation  Mr.  Strauss 
has  excited  in  Germany,  nor  at  the  number  of  replies, 
which  have  been  showered  down  upon  him.  Destruc- 
tion always  makes  a  great  noise,  and  attracts  the  crowd, 
but  nobody  knows  when  the  Gospels  were  published, 
and  the  world,  doubtless,  was  in  no  great  haste  to  re- 
ceive them.     It  is  fortunate  the  book  has  been  written 


*  See,  for  example,  an  article  on  the  second  Toliime  of  the  "  Leben 
Jesu,"  in  the  Berlin  '•  Jahrbiicher  fiir  Wissenschaftliche  Kritik,"  for 
1836.     Band  I.  p.  681,  seq.,  by  Bruno  Bauer. 

29* 


342  STRAUSS'S   LIFE   OF  JESUS. 

in  the  only  country  where  it  can  be  readily  answered. 
We  have  no  fears  for  the  final  result.  Doubtless,  some 
will  be  shaken  in  their  weakly  rooted  faith ;  and  the 
immediate  effect  will  probably  be  bad  ;  worse  than  for- 
mer religious  revolutions  with  them.  The  Rationalists 
took  possession  of  the  pulpit,  but  unlike  Strauss,  says 
Mr.  Tholuck,  they  pulled  down  no  churches.  But  we 
have  no  fear  that  any  church  will  be  destroyed  by  him. 
If  a  church  can  be  destroyed  by  criticism,  or  a  book, 
however  pungent,  the  sooner  it  falls  the  better.  A 
church,  we  think,  was  never  written  down,  except  by 
itself.  To  write  down  the  true  Christian  Church  seems 
to  us  as  absurd  as  to  write  down  the  solar  system,  or 
put  an  end  to  tears,  joys,  and  prayers.  Still  less  have 
we  any  fear,  that  Christianity  itself  should  come  to  an 
end,  as  some  appear  to  fancy  ;  a  form  of  Religion,  which 
has  been  the  parent  and  the  guardian  of  all  modern 
civilization  ;  which  has  sent  its  voice  to  the  ends  of  the 
world;  and  now  addresses  equally  the  heart  of  the  beg- 
gar and  the  monarch  ;  which  is  the  only  bond  between 
societies;  an  institution,  cherished  and  clung  to  by  the 
choicest  hopes,  the  deepest  desires  of  the  human  race, 
is  not  in  a  moment  to  be  displaced  by  a  book.  "  There 
has  long  been  a  fable  among  men,"  says  an  illustrious 
German  writer,  "  and  even  in  these  days  is  it  often 
heard  ;  unbelief  invented  it,  and  little-belief  has  taken 
it  up.  It  runs  thus;  there  will  come  a  time,  and,  per- 
haps, it  has  already  come,  when  it  will  be  all  over  with 
this  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ;  and  this  is  right.  The  mem- 
ory of  a  single  man  is  fruitful  only  for  a  time.  The 
human  race  must  thank  him  for  much ;  God  has 
brought  much  to  ))ass  through  him.  But  he  is  only 
one  of  us,  and  his  hour  to  be  forgotten  will  soon  strike. 
It    has    been    his    earnest  desire    to  render    the   world 


STRAUSS'S    LIFE   OF   JESUS.  243 

entirely  free ;  it  must,  therefore,  be  his  wish  to  make  it 
free  also  from  himself,  that  God  may  he  all  in  all. 
Then  men  will  not  only  know  that  they  have  power 
enough  in  themselves  to  obey  perfectly  the  will  of  God; 
but  in  the  perfect  knowledge  of  this,  they  can  go  beyond 
its  requisitions,  if  they  only  will !  Yea,  when  the 
Christian  name  is  forgotten,  then  for  the  first  time  shall 
a  universal  kingdom  of  Love  and  Truth  arise,  in  which 
there  shall  lie  no  more  any  seed  of  enmity,  that  from 
the  beginning  has  been  continually  sown  between  such 
as  believe  in  Jesus,  and  the  children  of  men.  But  this 
fable  can  never  be  true.  Ever  since  the  day  that  he 
was  in  the  flesh,  the  Redeemer's  image  has  been 
stamped  ineffaceably  on  the  hearts  of  men.  Even  if 
the  letter  should  perish,  —  which  is  holy,  only  because 
it  preserves  to  us  this  image,  —  the  image  itself  would 
remain  forever.  It  is  stamped  so  deep  in  the  heart  of 
man,  that  it  never  can  be  effaced,  and  the  word  of  the 
Apostle  will  ever  be  true,  '  Lord,  whither  shall  we  go  ?■ 
thou  only  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life.' "  * 

*  While  we  have  been  preparing  these  pages,  we  have  sometimes 
glanced  at  another  book,  attacking  Christianity.  Its  title  is  Jesus 
Christ  et  sa  doctrine,  Histoire  de  la  Naissance  de  I'Eglise,  de  son 
organization  et  de  ses  progres,  pendant  le  premier  sieclc,  par  /.  Sal- 
vador. Paris:  1838.  2  vols.  8vo. ;  a  work  of  great  pretensions  and 
very  little  merit. 


XII. 

THOUGHTS   ON  THEOLOGY* 


At  the  present  day  Germany  seems  to  be  the  only 
country,  where  the  various  disciplines  of  Theology  are 
pursued  in  the  liberal  and  scientific  spirit,  which  some 
men  fancy  is  peculiar  to  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is 
the  only  country  where  they  seem  to  be  studied  for 
their  own  sake,  as  Poetry,  Eloquence,  and  the  Mathe- 
matics have  long  been.  In  other  quarters  of  the  world, 
they  are  left  too  much  to  men  of  subordinate  intellect, 
of  little  elevation  or  range  of  thought,  who  pursue  their 
course,  which  is  "  roundly  smooth,  and  languishingly 
slow,"  and  after  a  life  of  strenuous  assiduity  find  they 
have  not  got  beyond  the  "  Standards,"  set  up  ages 
before  them.  Many  theologians  seem  to  set  out  with 
their  faces  turned  to  some  popular  prejudice  of  their 
times,  their  church,  or  their  school,  and  walk  backwards, 

*  EnhvtcklungsgescMchte  der  Lehre  von  der  Person  CJiristi  von  den 
altesten  Zeiten  his  aiif  die  neuesten,  dargestellt.  Yon  J.  A.  Dorxeu, 
a.  o.  Profossor  der  Thcologie  an  der  Universitat  Tiibigen.  Stutgart : 
1839.  1  vol.  8vo.  pp.  xxiv.  and  556.  [Historical  development  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  person  of  Christ,  from  the  earliest  to  the  latest  times, 
etc.]  — [From  the  Dial  for  April,  1842.] 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  345 

as  it  were,  or  at  best  in  a  circle  where  the  movement  is 
retrograde  as  often  as  direct.  Somebody  relates  a  story, 
that  once  upon  a  time  a  scholar  after  visiting  the  place 
of  his  Academic  education,  and  finding  the  old  Profes- 
sors then  just  where  they  were  ten  years  before,  discuss- 
ing the  same  questions,  and  blowing  similar  bubbles, 
and  splitting  hairs  anew,  was  asked  by  a  friend,  "  what 
they  were  doing  at  the  old  place."  He  answered,  "  One 
was  milking  the  barren  Heifer,  and  the  others  holding 
the  sieve." 

To  this  rule,  for  such  we  hold  it  to  be,  in  France, 
England,  and  America,  at  this  day,  there  are  some  bril- 
liant  exceptions;  men    who    look    with    a    single    eye 
towards  truth,  and  are  willing  to  follow  wherever  she 
shall   lead  ;  men,  too,  whose   mind    and    heart  elevate 
them  to  the  high  places  of  human  attainment,  whence 
they  can  speak  to  bless  mankind.     These  men  are  the 
creatures   of  no   sect  or  school,  and  are  found  where 
God  has  placed  them,  in  all  the  various  denominations 
of  our  common   faith.     It   is   given  to   no  party,  nor 
coterie,  no    old   school,  or  new  school,  to  monopolize 
truth,  freedom,  and  love.     We  are  sick  of  that  narrow- 
ness which  sees  no  excellence,  except  what  wears  the 
livery  of  its  own  guild.    But  the  favored  sons  of  the  free 
spirit  are  so  rare  in  the  world  at  large  ;  their  attention 
so  seldom  turned  to  theological  pursuits,  that  the  above 
rule  will  be  found  to   hold   good  in  chief,  and  Theol- 
ogy to  be  left,  as  by  general  consent,  to  men  of  humble 
talents,   and  confined  methods  of  thought,  who  walk 
mainly  under  the  cloud  of    prejudice,   and   but  rarely 
escape  from  the  trammels  of  Bigotry  and  Superstition. 
Brilliant    and   profound   minds   turn   away  to   Politics, 
Trade,  Law,  the  fascinating  study  of  nature  so  beautiful 
and  composing;  men,  who  love  freedom  and  are  gifted 


346  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

with  power  to  soar  through  the  empyrean  of  thought, 
seek  a  freer  air,  and  space  more  ample  wherein  to 
spread  their  wings.  Meanwhile,  the  dim  cloisters  of 
theology,  once  filled  with  the  great  and  the  wise  of  the 
earth,  are  rarely  trod  by  the  children  of  Genius  and 
Liberty.  We  have  wise,  and  pious,  and  learned,  and 
eloquent  preachers,  the  hope  of  the  church,  the  orna- 
ments and  defence  of  society ;  men  who  contend  for 
public  virtue,  and  fight  the  battle  for  all  souls  with 
earnest  endeavor,  but  who  yet  care  little  for  the  science 
of  divine  things.  We  have  sometimes  feared  our 
young  men  forsook  in  this  their  fathers'  wiser  ways,  for 
surely  there  was  a  time  when  theology  was  studied  in 
our  land. 

From  the  neglect  of  serious,  disinterested,  and  manly 
thought,  applied  in  this  direction,  there  comes  the  obvi- 
ous result ;  while  each  other  science  goes  forward,  pass- 
ing through  all  the  three  stages  requisite  for  its  growth 
and  perfection  ;  while  it  makes  new  observations,  or 
combines  facts  more  judiciously,  or  from  these  infers 
and  itiduces  general  laws  hitherto  unnoticed,  and  so 
develops  itself,  becoming  yearly  wider,  deeper,  and  more 
certain,  its  numerous  phenomena  being  referred  back  to 
elementary  principles  and  universal  laws,  —  Theology 
remains  in  its  old  position.  Its  form  has  changed ;  but 
the  change  is  not  scientific,  the  result  of  an  elementary 
principle.  In  the  country  of  Bossuet  and  Hooker,  we 
doubt  that  any  new  observation,  any  new  combination 
of  facts  has  been  made,  or  a  general  law  discovered  in 
these  matters,  by  any  theologian  of  tlie  present  century, 
or  a  single  step  taken  by  theological  science.  In  the 
former  country,  an  eminent  philosopher,  of  a  brilliant 
mind,  with  rare  faculties  of  combination  and  lucid  ex- 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  347 

pression,  though  often  wordy,  has  done  much  for  psy- 
chology, chiefly  however  by  uniting  into  one  focus  the 
several  truths  which  emanate  from  various  anterior  sys- 
tems ;  by  popularizing  the  discoveries  of  deeper  spirits 
than  his  own,  and  by  turning  the  ingenuous  youth  to 
this  noble  science.  In  spite  of  the  defects  arising  from 
his  presumption,  and  love  of  making  all  facts  square 
with  his  formula,  rather  than  the  formula  express  the 
spirit  of  the  facts,  he  has  yet  furnished  a  magazine, 
whence  theological  supplies  may  be  drawn,  and  so  has 
indirectly  done  much  for  a  department  of  inquiry  which 
he  has  himself  never  entered.  We  would  not  accept 
his  errors,  his  hasty  generalizations,  and  presumptuous 
flights,  —  so  they  seem  to  us, —  and  still  less  would  we 
pass  over  the  vast  service  he  has  done  to  this  age  by 
his  vigorous  attacks  on  the  sensual  philosophy,  and  his 
bold  defence  of  spiritual  thought.  Mr.  Coleridge  also, 
in  England,  a  spirit  analogous  but  not  similar  to  Mr. 
Cousin,  —  has  done  great  service  to  this  science,  but 
mainly  by  directing  men  to  the  old  literature  of  his 
countrymen  and  the  Greeks,  or  the  new  productions  of 
his  philosophical  contemporaries  on  the  continent  of 
Europe.  He  seems  to  have  caught  a  Pisgah  view  of 
that  land  of  stream  and  meadow,  which  he  was  forbid 
to  enter.  These  writers  have  done  great  service  to  men 
whose  date  begins  with  this  century.  Others  are  now 
applying  their  methods  and  writing  their  books,  some- 
times with  only  the  enthusiasm  of  imitators,  it  may  be. 
We  would  speak  tenderly  of  existing  reputations  in 
our  own  country,  and  honor  the  achievements  of  those 
men  who,  with  hearts  animated  only  by  love  of  God 
and  man,  devote  themselves  to  the  pursuit  of  truth  in 
this  path,  and  outwatch  the  Bear  in  their  severe  studies. 
To  them  all  honor.     But  we  ask  for  the  theologians  of 


348  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

America,  who  shall  take  rank  as  such  with  our  his- 
torians, our  men  of  science  and  politics.  Where  are 
they  ?     We  have  only  the  echo  for  answer,  Are  they  ? 

We  state  only  a  common  and  notorious  fact,  in  say- 
ing, that  there  is  no  science  of  theology  with  us.  There 
is  enough  cultivation  and  laborious  thought  in  the 
clerical  profession,  perhaps,  as  some  one  says,  more 
serious  and  hard  thinking  than  in  both  the  sister  pro- 
fessions. The  nature  of  the  case  demands  it.  So 
there  was  thinking  enough  about  natural  philosophy 
among  the  Greeks,  after  Aristotle  ;  but  little  good  came 
of  it  in  the  way  of  science.  We  hazard  little  in  say- 
ing, that  no  treatise  has  been  printed  in  England  in  the 
present  century,  of  so  great  theological  merit  as  that  of 
pagan  Cicero  on  the  Nature  of  the  Gods,  or  the  preface 
to  his  treatise  of  Laws.  The  work  of  Aristotle,  we 
are  told,  is  still  the  text-book  of  morals  at  the  first  uni- 
versity in  Christian  England. 

In  all  science  this  seems  everywhere  the  rule :  The 
more  Light,  the  freer,  the  more  profound  and  searching 
the  investigation,  why  the  better;  the  sooner  a  false 
theory  is  exploded  and  a  new  one  induced  from  the 
observed  facts,  the  better  also.  In  theology  the  oppo- 
site rule  seems  often  to  prevail.  Hence,  while  other 
sciences  go  smoothly  on  in  regular  advance,  theology 
moves  only  by  leaps  and  violence.  The  theology  of 
Protestantism  and  Unitarianism  are  not  regular  devel- 
opments, which  have  grown  harmoniously  out  of  a 
systematic  study  of  divine  things,  as  the  theory  of 
gravitation  and  acoustics  in  the  ]M-ogress  of  philosophy. 
They  are  rather  the  result  of  a  spasmodic  action,  to  use 
that  term.  It  was  no  difficult  thing  in  philosophy  to 
separate  astronomy  from  the  magicians  and  their  works 
of  astrology  and  divination.     It  required  only  years  and 


THOUGHTS    ON   THEOLOGY.  349^ 

the  gradual  advance  of  mankind.  But  to  separate  re- 
ligion from  the  existing  forms,  churches,  or  records,  is  a 
work  almost  desperate,  which  causes  strife  and  perhaps 
bloodshed.  A  theological  reformation  throws  kingdoms 
into  anarchy  for  the  time.  Doctrines  in  philosophy  are- 
neglected  as  soon  as  proved  false,  and  buried  as  soon  as- 
dead.  But  the  art  of  the  embalmer  preserves,  in  the- 
church,  the  hulls  of  effete  dogmas  in  theology,  to  cum- 
ber the  ground  for  centuries,  and  disgust  the  pious  wor- 
shipper who  would  offer  a  reasonable  service.  It  is 
only  the  living  that  hurjj  the  dead.  The  history  of  these 
matters  is  curious  and  full  of  warning.  What  was  once 
condemned  by  authority,  becomes  itself  an  authority  to 
condemn.  What  was  once  at  the  summit  of  the  sub- 
lime, falls  in  its  turn  to  the  depth  of  the  ridiculous. 
We  remember  a  passage  of  Julius  Firmicus,  which  we 
will  translate  freely,  as  it  illustrates  this  point:  "  Since 
all  these  things,"  namely,  certain  false  notions,  "  were 
ill  concocted,  they  were  at  first  a  terror  unto  mortals ; . 
then,  when  their  novelty  passed  away,  and  mankind  re- 
covered, as  it  were,  from  a  long  disease,  a  certain  degree- 
of  contempt  arises  for  that  former  admiration.  Thus 
gradually  the  human  mind  has  ventured  to  scrutinize 
sharply,  where  it  only  admired  with  stupid  amazement 
at  the  first.  Very  soon  some  sagacious  observer  pene- 
trates to  the  secret  places  of  these  artificial  and  empty 
superstitions.  Then  by  assiduous  efforts,  understanding 
the  mystery  of  what  was  formerly  a  secret,  he  comes 
to  a  real  knowledge  of  the  causes  of  things.  Thus  the 
human  race  first  learns  the  pitiful  deceits  of  the  profane 
systems  of  religion ;  it  next  despises,  and  at  last  rejects 
them  with  disdain."  Thus,  as  another  has  said,  "  Men 
quickly  hated  this  blear-eyed  religion,  (the  Catholic 
superstitions,)   when   a  little   light   had   come   among 

30 


350  THOUGHTS  OX  THEOLOGY. 

them,  which  they  hugged  in  the  night  of  their  igno- 
'  ranee. 

For  the  successful  prosecution  of  theok)gy,  as  of 
every  science,  certain  conditions  must  be  observed. 
We  must  abandon  prejudice.  The  maxim  of  the  Saint, 
CoNFiDO,  EUGO  SUM,  is  doubtlcss  as  true  as  that  of  the 
Philosopher,  Cogito,  ergo  sum.  But  it  is  pernicious 
when  it  izieans,  as  it  often  does,  \  selieve,  and  there- 
fore IT  is  so.  The  theologian  of  our  day,  like  the  as- 
tronomer of  Galileo's  time,  must  cast  his  idols  of  the 
Tribe,  the  Den,  the  Market-place,  and  the  Sphool,  to 
the  moles  and  the  bats ;  must  have  a  disinterested  love 
of  truth ;  be  willing  to  follow  wherever  she  leads.  He 
must  have  a  willingness  to  search  for  all  the  facts  rela- 
tive to  divine  things,  which  can  be  gathered  from  the 
deeps  of  the  human  soul,  or  from  each  nation  ajid  every 
age.  He  must  have  diligence  and  candor  to  examine 
this  mass  of  spiritual  facts ;  philosophical  skill  to  com- 
bine them ;  power  to  generalize  and  get  the  universal 
expression  of  each  particular  fact,  thus  discovering  the 
one  principle  which  lies  under  the  numerous  and  con- 
flicting phenomena.  Need  we  say  that  he  must  have  a 
good,  pious,  loving  heart?  An  undevout  theologian  is 
the  most  desperate  of  madmen.  A  whole  Anticyra 
would  not  cure  him. 

This  empire  of  prejudice  is  still  wide  enough  a  domain 
for  the  Prince  of  lies ;  but  formerly  it  was  wider,  and 
included  many  departments  of  philosophy,  which  have 
since,  through  the  rebellion  of  their  tenants,  been  set  off 
to  the  empire  of  Reason,  wliich  extends  every  century. 
Theology,  though  now  and  then  rebellious  against  its 
tyrant,  has  never  shaken  oil"  his  yolce,  and  seems  part  of 
his  old  ancestral  domain,  where  he  and  his  children 
shall  long  reign.    An  old  writer  uilconsciously  describes 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  351 

times  later  than  his  own,  and  says,  '•  No  two  things  do 
so  usurp  upon  and  waste  the  faculty  of  Heason,  as 
Enthusiasm  and  Superstition;  the  one  binding  a  faith, 
the  other  a  fear  upon  the  soul,  which  they  vainly  entitle 
some  divine  discovery ;  both  train  a  man  up  to  believe 
beyond  possibility  of  proof;  both  instruct  the  mind  to 
conceive  merely  by  the  wind,  the  vain  words  of  some 
passionate  men,  that  can  but  pretend  a  revelation,  or 
tell  a  strange  story ;  both  teach  a  man  to  deliver  over 
himself  to  the  confident  dictate  of  the  sons  of  imagina- 
tion ;  to  determine  of  things  by  measures  phantastical, 
rules  which  cannot  maintain  themselves  in  credit  by  any 
sober  and  severe  discourses ;  both  inure  the  mind  to  di- 
vine rather  than  to  judge ;  to  dispute  for  maxims  rather 
vehement  than  solid ;  both  make  a  man  afraid  to  be- 
lieve himself,  to  acknov/ledge  the  truth  that  overpowers 
his  mind,  and  that  would  reward  its  cordial  entertain- 
ment with  assurance  and  true  freedom  of  spirit.  Both 
place  a  man  beyo)id  possibility  of  conviction,  it  being 
in  vain  to  j)resent  an  argument  against  him  that  thinks 
he  can  confront  a  revelation,  a  miracle,  or  some  strange 
judgment  from  heaven,  upon  his  adversary  to  your  con- 
fusion. It  seems,  there  is  not  a  greater  evil  in  the  State, 
than  v/ickedness  established  by  Law ;  nor  a  greater  in 
the  Church  than  error  [established]  by  Religion,  and 
an  ignorant  devotion  towards  God.  And  therefore  no 
pains  and  care  are  too  much  to  remove  these  two  beams 
from  the  eye  of  human  understanding,  which  render  it 
insuflicient  for  a  just  and  faithful  discovery  of  objects 
in  religion  and  common  science,  '  Pessima  res  est  erro- 
rum  apotheosis,  et  pro  peste  intellectus  habenda  e'st,  si 
vanis  accedat  veneratio.'  "  * 

*  Spencer's  Discourse  concerning  Prodigies  ;  London,  1665.    Pre- 
face, p.  XV. 


352  THOUGHTS   ON  THEOLOGY. 

Theology  is  not  yet  studied  in  a  philosophical  spirit, 
and"the  method  of  a  science.  Writers  seem  resolved  to 
set  up  some  standard  of  their  fathers  or  their  own  ;  so 
they  explore  but  a  small  part  of  the  field,  and  that  only 
with  a  certain  end  in  view.  They  take  a  small  part  of 
the  human  race  as  the  representative  of  the  whole,  and 
neglect  all  the  rest.  As  the  old  geographers  drew  a 
chart  of  the  world,  so  far  as  they  knew  it,  but  crowded 
the  margin,  where  the  land  was  unknown,  "  with  shrieks, 
and  shapes,  and  sights  unholy,"  with  figures  of  dragons, 
chimeras,  winged  elephants,  and  four-footed  whales,  an- 
thropophagi, and  "  men  whose  heads  do  grow  beneath 
their  shoulders,"  so  "  divines  "  have  given  us  the  notions 
of  a  few  sects  of  religious  men,  and  telling  us  they 
never  examined  the  others,  have  concluded  to  rest  in 
this  comprehensive  generalization,  that  all  besides  were 
filled  with  falsehood  and  devilish  devices.  What  is  to 
be  expected  of  such  methods  ?  Surely  it  were  as  well 
to  give  such  inquirers  at  starting  the  result  they  must 
reach  at  the  end  of  their  course.  It  appears  legitimate 
to  leave  both  students  and  teachers  of  geology,  mathe- 
matics, and  science  in  general,  to  soar  on  the  loftiest 
thoughts  toward  absolute  truth,  only  stopping  when  the 
wing  was  weary  or  the  goal  reached ;  but  to  direct  the 
students  and  teachers  of  things  divine,  to  accept  certain 
conclusions  arrived  at  centuries  ago !  If  Faraday  and 
Herschel  pursued  the  theological  method  in  their  sciences, 
no  harm  would  be  done  to  them  or  the  world,  if  they 
were  required  to  accept  the  "standard"  of  Thales  or 
Paracelsus,  and  subscribe  the  old  creed  every  lustrum. 
The  method  could  lead  to  nothing  better,  and  the  con- 
clusion, the  inquirer  must  reach,  might  as  well  be  forced 
upon  him  at  the  beginning  as  the  end  of  his  circular 
course.     The  ridiculous  part  of  the  matter   is   this,  — 


THOUGHTS    ON   THEOLOGY.  353 

that  the  man  professes  to  search  for  whatever  truth  is 
to  be  found,  but  has  sworn  a  solemn  oath^^never  to  ac- 
cept as  truth,  what  does  not  conform  to  the  idols  he 
worships  at  home.  We  have  sometimes  thought  what 
a  strange  spectacle,  —  ridiculous  to  the  merry,  but  sad 
to  the  serious,  —  would  appear  if  the  Almighty  should 
have  sent  down  the  brilliant  image  of  pure,  absolute 
Religion,  into  the  assembly  of  divines  at  Westminster, 
or  any  similar  assembly.  Who  would  acknowledge  the 
image  ? 

The  empire  of  Prejudice  is  perhaps  the  last  strong- 
hold of  the  Father  of  lies,  that  will  surrender  to  Reason. 
At  present,  a  great  part  of  the  domain  of  theology  is 
under  the  rule  of  that  most  ancient  czar.  There  common 
sense  rarely  shows  his  honest  face ;  Reason  seldom 
comes.^  It  is  a  land  shadowy  with  the  wings  of  Igno- 
rance, Superstition,  Bigotry,  Fanaticism,  the  brood  of 
clawed,  and  beaked,  and  hungry  Chaos  and  most  an- 
cient Night.  There  Darkness,  as  an  Eagle,  stirreth  up 
her  nest;  fluttereth  over  her  young;  spreadeth  abroad 
her  vv  ings ;  taketh  her  children ;  beareth  them  on  her 
wings  over  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  that  they  may 
eat,  and  trample  down,  and  defile  the  increase  of  the 
fields.  There  stands  the  great  arsenal  of  Folly,  and  the 
old  war-cry  of  the  pagan,  "  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephe- 
sians,"  is  blazoned  on  the  banner  that  floats  above  its 
walls.  There  the  spectres  of  Judaism,  and  Heathenism, 
and  Pope,  and  Pagan,  pace  forth  their  nightly  round; 
the  ghost  of  Moloch,  Saturn,  Baal,  Odin,  fight  their  bat- 
tles over  again,  and  feast  upon  the  dead.  There  the 
eye  is  terrified,  and  the  mind  made  mad  with  the  pic- 
ture of  a  world  that  has  scarce  a  redeeming  feature, 
with  a  picture  of  heaven  such  as  a  good  free  man  would 

30* 


354  THOUGHTS  on  theology. 

scorn  to  enter,  and  a  picture  of  hell  such  as   a   fury 
would  delight  to  paint. 

If  we  look  a  little  at  the  history  of  theology,  it  ap- 
pears that  errors  find  easiest  entrance  there,  and  are 
most  difficult  to  dislodge.  It  required  centuries  to  drive 
out  of  the  Christian  Church  a  belief  in  ghosts  and 
witches.  The  Devil  is  still  a  classical  personage  of 
theology;  his  existence  maintained  by  certain  churches 
in  their  articles  of  faith  ;  and  while  we  are  writing  these 
pages,  a  friend  tells  us  of  hearing  a  preacher  of  the  pop- 
ular doctrine  declare  in  his  public  teaching  from  the 
pulpit,  that  to  deny  the  existence  of  the  Devil,  is  to  de- 
stroy the  character  of  Christ.  In  science,  we  ask  first, 
What  are  the  facts  of  observation  whence  we  shall  start  ? 
Next,  What  is  the  true  and  natural  order,  explanation, 
and  meaning  of  these  facts?  The  first  work  is  to  find 
the  facts,  then  their  law  and  meaning.  Now  here  are 
two  things  to  be  considered,  namely,  facts  and  no-facts^ 
For  every  false  theory  there  are  a  thousand  false  facts. 
In  theology,  the  data,  in  many  celebrated  cases,  an;  facts 
of  assumption,  not  observation;  in  a  word,  are  no-facts. 
When  Charles  the  Second  asked  the  Royal  Society, 
"  Why  a  living  fish  put  into  a  vessel  of  water  added 
.  nothing  to  the  weight  of  the  water  ?  "  there  were  enough, 
no  doubt,  to  devise  a  theory,  and  explain  the  fact,  "by 
the  upward  pressure  of  the  water,"  "the  buoyancy  of 
air  in  the  living  fish,"  "  its  motion  and  the  reaction  of 
the  water."  But  when  some  one  ventured  to  verify  the 
fact,  it  was  found  to  be  no-fact.  Had  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy been  composed  of  "Divines,"  and  not  of  Natural- 
ists and  Philosophers,  the  theological  method  would 
have  been  pursued,  and  we  should  have  had  theories  as 
numerous   as  the   attempts  to   reconcile   the   story   of 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  355 

Jonah  with  human  experience,  and  science  would  be 
where  it  was  at  first.  Thcok:)gy  generally-  passes  dry- 
shod  over  the  first  question, —  What  are  Ike  fads?  — 
"with  its  garlands  and  singing-robes  about  it."  Its 
answer  to  the  next  query  is  therefore  of  no  value. 

We  speak  historically  of  things  that  have  happened, 
when  we  say,  that  many,  if  not  most  of  those  theolog- 
ical questions,  which  have  been  matters  of  dispute  and 
railing,  belong  to  the  class  of  explanations  of  no-facts. 
Such,  we  take  it,  are  the  speculations,  for  the  most  part, 
that  have  grown  out  of  the  myths  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testament;  about  Angels,  Devils,  personal  appearances 
of  the  Deity,  miraculous  judgments,  supernatural  proph- 
ecies, the  trinity,  and  the  whole  class  of  miracles  from 
Genesis  to  Revelation.  Easy  faith  and  hard  logic  have 
done  enough  in  theology.  Let  us  answer  the  first  ques- 
tion, and  verify  the  facts  before  we  attempt  to  explain 
them. 

As  we  look  back  on  the  history  of  the  world,  the  ret- 
rospect is  painful.  The  history  of  science  is  that  of 
many  wanderings  before  reaching  the  truth.  But  the 
history  of  theology  is  the  darkest  chapter  of  all,  for  nei- 
ther the  true  end  nor  the  true  path  seems  yet  to  be  dis- 
covered and  pursued.  In  the  history  of  every  depart- 
ment of  thought  there  seem  to  be  three  periods  pretty 
distinctly  marked.  First,  the  period  of  hypothesis^  when 
observation  is  not  accurate,  and  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem, when  stated,  is  a  matter  of  conjecture,  mere  guess- 
work. Next  comes  the  period  of  observation  and  induc- 
tion, when  men  ask  for  the  facts,  and  their  law.  Finally, 
there  is  the  period  when  science  is  developed  still  fur- 
ther by  its  own  laivs,  without  the  need  of  new  observa- 
tions. Such  is  the  present  state  of  mathematics,  spec- 
ulative astronomy,  and  some  other  departments,  as  we 


356  TIIOLGIITS    OX   THEOLOGY. 

think.  Thus  science  niay  be  in  advance  of  observation. 
Soo.ie  oa  the  profoand  remarks  of  lVe\vtoi>  belong  to  this 
la-;t  ei5ocli  of"  science.  A'l  a'/cieiii,  \vb<  In  tl'e  arst  vvhen 
be  answered  the  qrtestion,  ''Why  does  a  man  draw  his 
feel  under  him,  when  he  wishes  to  rise  from  his  seat?" 
b}'  sayin;:--  >i  was  "  on  account  of  the  occult  properties  of 
the  circle." 

Now  theology  with  us  is  certainly  in  the  period  of 
hypothesis.  The  facts  are  assumed;  the  explanation  is 
gues:3\vork.  To  take  an  exa)nple  from  a  sectio)i  of  the- 
ology much  insisted  on  at  the  present  day,  —  the  use  and 
meaning  of  miracles.  The  general  thesis  is,  that  mira- 
cles confirn^  the  authority  of  him  who  works  them,  and 
authenticate  his  teachings  to  be  divine.  We  will  state 
it  in  a  syllogistic  and  more  concrete  form.  Every  mir- 
acle-worker is  a  heaven-sent  and  infallible  teacher  of 
truth.  Jonah  is  a  niiracle-v»  orker.  Therefore  Jonah  is  a 
heaven-sent  and  infallible  teacher  of  truth.  Now  we 
should  begin  by  denying  the  major  in  full,  and  go  on  to 
ask  proofs  of  the  minor.  Bat  the  theological  aiethod  is 
to  assume  both.  When  both  premises  are  assumptions, 
the  conclusion  will  be, —  what  we  see  it  is.  INIen  build 
neither  castles  Jior  temples  of  moonshine.  Yet,  in  spite 
of  this  defect,  limitation,  a)id  weak)iess,  it  is  a  common 
thing  to  subject  other  sciences  to  this  pretended  science 
of  Theology.  Psychology,  Ethics,  Geology,  and  As- 
tronomy are  successively  arraigned,  examined,  and  cen- 
sured or  condemned,  because  their  conclusions,  —  though 
legitimately  deduced  from  jiotorious  facts,  —  do  not 
square  with  the  assumptions  of  theology,  which  still  as- 
pires to  be  head  of  all.  But  to  present  this  claim  for 
theology  in  its  present  state,  is  like  making  the  bramble 
king  over  the  trees  of  the  forest.  The  result  would  be 
as  in  Jotham's  parable.     Theology  would  say,  Come 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.     ~       357 

and  put  your  trust  in  my  shadow.  But  if  you  will  not, 
a  fire  shall  go  out  from  the  bramble  and  devour  the  ce- 
dars of  Lebanon. 

Now  as  it  seems  to  us,  there  are  two  legitimate 
methods  of  attempting  to  improve  and  advance  theol- 
ogy. One  is  for  the  theologian  to  begin  anew,  trusting 
entirely  to  meditation,  contemplation,  and  thought,  and 
ask  WHAT  can  be  known  of  divine  things,  and  now  can 
it  be  known  and  legitimated  ?  This  work  of  course  de- 
mands, that  he  should  criticize  the  faculty  of  knowing, 
'and  determine  its  laws,  and  see,  a  priori,  what  are  our 
instruments  of  knowing,  and  what  the  law  and  method 
of  their  use,  and  thus  discover  the  novum  organum  of 
theology.  This  determined,  he  must  direct  his  eye  in- 
luard  on  what  passes  there,  studying  the  stars  of  that 
inner  firmament,  as  the  astronomer  reads  the  phenom- 
ena of  the  heavens.  He  must  also  look  outivard  on  the 
face  of  nature  and  of  man,  and  thus  read  the  primitive 
Gospel,  God  wrote  on  the  heart  of  his  child,  and  illus- 
trated in  the  Earth  and  the  Sky  and  the  events  of  life. 
Thus  from  observations  made  in  the  external  world, 
made  also  in  the  internal  world,  comprising  both  the 
reflective  and  the  intuitive  faculties  of  man,  he  is  to 
frame  the  theory  of  God,  of  man,  of  the  relation  between 
God  and  man,  and  of  the  duties  that  grow  out  of  this 
relation,  for  with  these  four  questions  we  suppose  the- 
ology is  exclusively  concerned.  This  is  the  philosophi- 
cal method,  and  it  is  strictly  legitimate.  It  is  pursued 
in  the  other  sciences,  and  to  good  purpose.  Thus  sci- 
ence becomes  the  interpreter  of  nature,  not  its  lawgiver. 
The  other  method  is  to  get  the  sum  of  the  theological 
thinking  of  the  human  race,  and  out  of  this  mass  con- 
struct a  system,  without  attempting  a  fresh  observation 


858  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

of  facts.  This  is  the  historical  method,  and  it  is  useful 
to  show  what  has  been  done.  The  opinion  of  mankind 
deserves  respect,  no  doubt;  but  this  method  can  lead  to 
a  perfect  theology  no  more  than  historical  Eclecticism 
can  lead  to  a  perfect  philosophy.  The  former  researches 
in  theology,  as  in  magjietisni  and  geology,  offer  but  a 
narrow jand  inadequate  basis  to  rest  on. 

This  historical  scheme  has  often  been  attempted,  but 
never  systonatically.  thoroughly,  and  critically,  so  far  as 
\ve  Ivnow.  In  England  and  America,  however,  it  seems 
almost  entirely  to  have  dispossessed  the  jjhilosophical 
method  of  its  rights.  But  it  has  been  conducted  in 
a  narrow,  exclusive  inanner,  after  the  fashion  of  anti- 
quarians searching  to  prove  a  preconceived  opinion, 
rather  than  in  the  spirit  of  philosophical  investigation. 
From  such  measures  we  must  expect  melancholy 
results.  Erom  the  common  abhorrence  of  the  philosohp- 
ical  method,  and  the  narrow  and  uncritical  spirit  in 
which  the  historical  method  is  comn\only  jrarsued, 
comes  this  result.  Our  philosophy  of  divine  things  is 
the  poorest  of  all  our  j)oor  philosophies.  It  is  not  a 
theology,  but  a  despair  of  all  iheology.  The  theologian, 
—  as  Lord  Bacon  says  of  a  method  of  philosophizing 
that  was  common  in  his  time,  —  "  hurries  on  rapidly 
from  particulars  to  the  most  general  axioms,  and  from 
them  as  principles,  and  their  supposed  indisputal)le 
truth,  derives  and  discovers  the  intermediate  axionis." 
Of  course  what  is  built  on  conjecture,  and  only  by 
guess,  can  never  satisfy  nien,  \/ho  ask  for  the  facts  and 
their  law  and  explanation. 

Still  more,  defere»ice  ioy  authority  is  carried  to  the 
greatest  extreme  in  theology.  The  sectarian  must  not 
dispute  against  the  "  Standards  "  set  up  by  the  Synod 
of  Dort,  the  Westminster   divines,  or   the    Council   of 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  359 

Trent.  These  settle  all  controversies.  If  the  theologian 
is  no  sectarian,  in  the  usual  sense  of  that  word,  then 
his  "  Standard  "  is  the  Bible.  He  settles  questions  of 
philosophy,  morals,  and  religion  by  citing  texts,  which 
prove  only  the  opinion  of  the  writer,  and  perhaps  not 
even  that.  The  chain  of  his  argument  is  made  of 
Scripture  sentences  well  twisted.  As  things  are  now 
managed  by  theologians  in  general,  there  is  little  chance 
of  improvement.  As  Bacon  says  of  universities  in  his 
day,  "  They  learn  nothing  but  to  believe  ;  first,  that 
others  know  this  which  they  know  not,  and  often,  [that] 
themselves  know  that  which  they  know  not.  They 
are  like  a  becalmed  ship  ;  they  never  move  but  by  the 
wind  of  other  men's  breath,  and  have  no  oars  of  their 
own  to  steer  withal."  And  again.  "  All  things  are 
found  opposite  to  advancement;  for  the  readings  and 
exercises  are  so  managed,  that  it  cannot  easily  come 
into  any  one's  mind  to  think  of  things  out  of  the  com- 
mon road  ;  or  if  here  and  there,  one  should  venture  to 
ask  a  liberty  of  judging,  he  can  only  impose  the  task 
upon  himself  without  obtaining  assistance  from  his  fel- 
lows ;  and  if  he  could  dispeiise  with  this,  he  will  still 
find  his  industry  and  resolution  a  great  hinderance  to  his 
fortune.  For  the  studies  of  men  in  such  places  are 
confined  and  penned  down  to  the  writings  of  certain 
authors ;  from  which  if  any  man  happens  to  difier,  he 
is  presently  reprehejided  as  a  disturber  and  innovator." 
And  still  further.  "  Their  wits  being  shut  up  in  the 
cells  of  a  few  authors,  did,  out  of  no  great  quantity  of 
matter,  and  infinite  agitation  of  wit,  spin  cobwebs  of 
learning,  admirable  for  the  fineness  of  thread  and  work, 
but  of  no  substance  or  profit." 

There  are  two  methods  of  philosophizing  in  general, 


360  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

that  of  the  Materialists  and  the  Spiritoalists,  to  use 
these  terms.  The  one  is  perhaps  most  ably  represented 
in  the  Novum  Organum  of  Lord  Bacon,  and  the  other 
in  Descartes'  Book  of  Method  and  of  Principles.  The 
latter  was  early  introduced  to  England  by  a  few  Platon- 
izing  philosophers,  —  now  better  known  abroad  than  at 
home,  we  fancy,  —  whose  pious  lives,  severe  study,  and 
volumes  full  of  the  ripest  thought  have  not  yet  redeemed 
them,  in  the  judgment  of  their  countrymen,  from  the 
charge  of  being  mystics,  dreamers  of  dreams,  too  high 
for  this  world,  too  low  for  the  next,  so  of  no  use  in 
either.  But  this  method,  inasmuch  as  it  laid  great 
stress  on  the  inward  and  the  idea, — in  the  Platonic 
sense,  —  and,  at  least  in  its  onesidedness  and  misappli- 
cation, led  sometimes  to  the  visionary  and  absurd,  has 
been  abandoned  by  our  brethren  in  England.  Few 
British  scholars,  since  the  seventeenth  century,  have 
studied  theology  in  the  spirit  of  the  Cartesian  method. 
The  other  method,  that  of  Bacon,  begins  by  neglecting 
that  half  of  man's  nature  which  is  primarily  concerned 
with  divine  things.  This  has  been  found  more  con- 
genial with  the  taste  and  character  of  the  English  and 
American  nations.  They  have  applied  it,  with  eminent 
success,  to  experimental  science,  for  which  it  was 
designed,  and  from  which  it  was  almost  exclusively 
derived  by  its  illustrious  author.  We  would  speak 
with  becoming  diffidence  respecting  the  defects  of  a 
mind  so  vast  as  Bacon's,  which  burst  the  trammels  of 
Aristotle  and  the  School-men,  emancipated  })hilosoj:)hy 
in  great  measure  from  the  theological  method  which 
would  cripple  the  intellectnal  energies  of  the  race.  But 
it  must  be  confessed  that  Bacon's  Philosophy  recognizes 
scarcely  the  possibility  of  a  theology,  certainly  of  none 
but  a  historical  theology,  —  gathering  up  the  limbs  of 


THOUGHTS    ON   THEOLOGY.  361. 

Osiris  dispersed  throughout  the  world.  It  lives  in  the 
senses,  not  the  soul.  Accordingly,  this  mf.thod  is  ap- 
plied chiefly  in  the  departments  of  natural  and  mechan- 
ical philosophy,  and  even  here  Englishmen  begin  to 
find  it  inadequate  to  the  ultimate  purposes  of  science, 
by  reason  of  its  exceeding  outwardness,  and  so  look  for 
a  better  instrument  than  the  Novum  Organum,  where- 
with to  arm  the  hand  of  science.*  One  of  the  most 
thorough  Baconians  of  the  present  day,  as  we  under- 
stand it,  is  Mr.  Comte,  the  author  of  the  course  of  pos- 
itive Philosophy  just  published  at  Paris  ;  and  it  is  curi- 
ous to  see  the  results  he  has  reached,  namely,  Material- 
ism in  Psychology,  Selfishness  in  Ethics,  and  Atheism 
in  Theology.  It  is  not  for  us  to  say  he  is  logically  false 
to  his  principles. 

Some  of  the  countrymen  of  .Bacon,  however,  have 
attempted  to  apply  his  method  in  other  departments  of 
human  inquiry.  Locke  has  done  this  in  metaphysics. 
It  was  with  Bacon's  new  instrument  in  his  hand,  that 
he  struck  at  the  root  of  innate  ideas;  at  our  idea  of 
Infinity,  Eternity,  and  the  like.  But  here  his  good- 
sense  sometimes,  his  excellent  heart  and  character, 
truly  humane  and  Christian,  much  oftener,  as  we  think, 
saved  him  from  the  conclusions,  to  which  this  method 
has  legitimately  led  others  who  have  followed  it.  The 
method  defective,  so  was  the  work.  A  Damascus 
mechanic,  with  a  very  rude  instrument,  may  form  ex- 
quisite blades,  and  delicate  filagree;  but  no  skill  of  the 
artist,  no  excellence  of  heart,  can  countera'ct  the  defects 
of  the  Novum  Organum,  when  applied  to  morals,  meta- 
physics, or  theology.     Hume  furnishes  another  instance 


*  See  Whewell's  Philosophy  of  the  Inductive  Sciences,  etc.  Lon- 
don, 1840.     2  vols.  8vo.     Preface  to  Vol.  I. 

31 


362  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

of  the  same  kind.  His  treatise  of  Natural  Religion  we 
take  to  be  a  rigid  application  of  Bacon's  method  in 
theological  inquiries,  and  his  inductions  to  be  legitimate, 
admitting  his  premises  and  accepting  his  method.  A 
third  instance  of  the  same  kind  is  afforded  by  the  ex- 
cellent Dr.  Paley.  Here  this  method  is  applied  in 
morals  ;  the  result  is  too  well  known  to  need  men- 
tion. 

Never  did  a  new  broom  sweep  so  clean  as  this  new  in- 
strument, in  the  various  departments  of  metaphysics,  the- 
ology, and  ethics.  Love,  God,  and  the  Soul  are  swept 
clean  out  of  doors.*  We  are  not  surprised  that  no  one, 
following  Bacon's  scheme,  has  ever  succeeded  in  argu- 
ment with  these  illustrious  men,  or  driven  Materialism, 
Selfishness,  and  Skepticism  from  the  field  of  Philoso- 
phy, Morals,  and  Religion.  The  answer  to  these  sys- 
tems must  come  from  men  who  ^dopt  a  different 
method.  Weapons  tempered  in  another  spring  were 
needed  to  cleave  asunder  the  seven-orbed  Baconian 
shield,  and  rout  the  Skepticism  sheltered  thereby.  No 
Baconian  philosopher,  so  it  seems  to  us,  has  ever  ruf- 
fled its  terrible  crest,  though  the  merest  stripling  of  the 
Gospel  could  bring  it  to  the  ground.  The  replies  to 
Locke,  Hume,  and  Paley  come  into  England  from 
countries  where  a  more  spiritual  philosophy  has  for- 
tunately got  footing. 

The  consequences  of  this  exclusive  Baconianism  of 
the  English  have  been  disastrous  to  theological  pursuits. 
The  "  Divines "  in  England,  at  the  present  day,  her 
Bishops,  Professors,  and  Prebendaries,  are  not  theologi- 
ans.    They  are  logicians,  chemists,  skilled  in  the  math- 

*  We  would  not  have  it  supposed  we  charge  these  results  upon  the 
men,  but  on  their  systems,  if  legitimately  carried  out. 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  363 

ematics ;  historians,  poor  commentators  upon  Greek 
poets.  Theology  is  out  of  their  line.  The^  have  taken 
the  ironical  advice  of  Bishop  Hare.  Hence  it  comes  to 
pass,  either  that  theology  is  not  studied  at  all ;  only  an 
outside  and  preparatory  department  is  entered  ;  or  it  is 
studied  with  little  success,  even  when  a  man  like  Lord 
Brougham  girds  himself  for  the  task.  The  most  sig- 
nificant theological  productions  of  the  last  five-and- 
twenty  years  in  England  are  the  Bridgewater  Treatises, 
some  of  which  are  valuable  contributions  to  natural 
science.  Of  Lord  Brougham's  theological  writings 
little  needs  be  said,  and  of  the  Oxford  Tracts  we  shall 
only  say,  that  while  we  admire  the  piety  displayed  in 
them,  we  do  not  wonder  that  their  authors  despair  of 
theology,  and  so  fall  back  on  dark  ages  ;  take  authority 
for  truth,  and  not  truth  for  authority.  The  impotence 
of  the  English  in  this  department  is  surely  no  marvel. 
It  would  take  even  a  giant  a  long  time  to  hew  down  an 
oak  with  a  paver's  maul,  useful  as  that  instrument  may 
be  in  another  place.  Few  attempt  theology,  and  fewcF 
still  succeed.  Men  despair  of  the  whole  matter.  While 
truth  is  before  them  in  all  other  departments,  and  re- 
search gives  not  merely  historical  results  to  the  anti- 
quary, but  positive  conclusions  to  the  diligent  seeker, 
here,  in  the  most  important  of  all  the  fields  of  human 
speculation,  she  is  supposed  to  be  only  behind  us,  and 
to  have  no  future  blessing  to  bestow.  Thus  theology, 
though  both  Queen  and  Mother  of  all  science,  is  left 
alone,  unapproached,  unseen,  unhonored,  though  wor- 
shipped by  a  few  weak  idolaters  with  vain  oblation,  and 
incense  kindled  afar  off,  while  strong  men  and  the  whole 
people  have  gone  up  on  every  hill-top,  and  under  every 
green  tree,  to  sacrifice  and  do  homage  to  the  Useful 
and  the  Agreeable.     Any  one,  who   reads  the  English 


364  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

theological  journals,  or  other  recent  works  on  those  sub- 
jects, will  see  the  truth  of  what  we  have  said,  and 
how  their  scholars  retreat  to  the  tinie  of  the  Reforma- 
tion and  Revolution,  and  bring  up  the  mighty  dead, 
the  Hookers,  the  Taylors,  the  Cudworths,  with  their 
illustrious  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  who,  with 
all  their  faults,  had  a  spark  of  manly  fire  in  their 
bosoms,  which  shone  out  in  all  their  works.  It  must 
be  confessed,  that  theology  in  England  and  America  is 
in  about  the  same  state  with  astronomy  in  the  time  of 
Scotus  Erigena. 

Now  theological  problems  change  from  age  to  age  ; 
the  reflective  character  of  our  age,  the  philosophical 
spirit  that  marks  our  time,  is  raising  questions  in  the- 
ology never  put  before.  If  the  "  Divines  "  will  not  think 
of  theological  subjects,  nor  meet  the  question,  why 
others  will.  The  matter  cannot  be  winked  out  of 
sight.  Accordingly,  unless  we  are  much  deceived,  the 
educated  laymen  have  applied  good-sense  to  theology, 
as  the  "  Divines"  have  not  dared  to  do,  at  least  in  pub- 
lic, and  reached  conclusions  far  in  advance  of  the  the- 
ology of  the  pulpit.  It  is  a  natural  consequence  of  the 
theological  method,  that  the  men  wedded  to  it  should 
be  further  from  truth  in  divine  things,  than  men  free 
from  its  shackles.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  for  the  pulpit 
to  be  behind  the  pews.  Yet  it  would  be  very  surpris- 
ing if  the  professors  of  medicine,  chemistry,  and  math- 
ematics understood  those  mysteries  more  imperfectly 
than  laymen,  who  but  thought  of  the  matter  inciden- 
tally, as  it  were. 

The  history  of  theology  shows  an  advance,  at  least, 
a  change  in  its  great  questions.  They  rise  in  one  age 
and  are  settled  in  the  ne,xt,  after  some  fierce  disputing  ; 


THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY.  365 

for  it  is  a  noticeable  fact,  that  as  religious  wars,  —  so 
they  are  called,  —  are  of  all  others  the  mo^.t  bloody,  so 
theological  controversies  are  most  distinguished  for  mis- 
understanding, perversity,  and  abuse.  We  know  not 
why,  but  such  is  the  fact.  Now  there  are  some  great 
questions  in  theology  that  come  up  in  our  time  to  be 
settled,  which  have  not  been  asked  in  the  same  spirit 
before.     Among  them  are  the  following. 

What  relation  does  Christianity  bear  to  the  Abso- 
lute ?  What  relation  does  Jesus  of  Nazareth  bear  to 
the  human  race  ?  What  relation  do  the  Scriptures  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testament  bear  to  Christianity  ? 

The  first  is  the  vital  question,  and  will  perhaps  be 
scarce  settled  favorably  to  the  Christianity  of  the  church. 
The  second  also  is  a  serious  question,  but  one  which 
the  recent  discussions  of  the  Trinity  will  help  to  answer. 
The  third  is  a  practical  and  historical  question  of  great 
interest.  In  the  time  of  Paul  the  problem  was  to  sep- 
arate Religion  from  the  forms  of  the  Mosaic  ritual ;  in 
Luther's  day  to  separate  it  from  the  forms  of  the 
Church  ;  in  our  age  to  separate  it  from  the  letter  of 
Scripture,  and  all  personal  authority,  pretended  or  real, 
and  leave  it  to  stand  or  fall  by  itself.  There  is  nothing 
to  fear  from  Truth,  or  for  Truth.  But  if  these  questions 
be  answered,  as  we  think  they  must  be,  then  a  change 
will  come  over  the  spirit  of  our  theology,  to  which  all 
former  changes  therein  were  as  nothing.  But  Avhat  is 
true  will  stand  ;  yes,  will  stand,  though  all  present  the- 
ologies perish. 

We  have  complained  of  the  position  of  theology  in 
England  and  America.  Let  us  look  a  little  into  a  single 
department  of  it,  and  one  most  congenial  to  the  Eng- 
lish mind,  that  of  Ecclesiastical  History  ;  here  our  liter- 
ature is  most  miserably  deficient.    Most  English  writers 

31* 


366  THOUGHTS  ON  THEOLOGY. 

quote  the  Fathers,  as  if  any  writer  of  the  first  six  cen- 
turies was  as  good  authority  for  whatever  relates  to  the 
primitive  practice  or  opinion,  as  Clement  of  Alexandria, 
or  Justin  Martyr.  Apart  from  the  honorable  and  an- 
cient name  of  Cave  we  have  scarce  an  original  historian 
of  the  Church  in  the  English  tongue,  unless  we  men- 
tion Mr.  Campbell,  whose  little  work  is  candid  and 
clear,  and  shows  an  acquaintance  with  the  sources, 
though  sometimes  it  betrays  too  much  of  a  polemical 
spirit.  England  has  produced  three  great  historians 
within  less  than  a  century.  Their  works,  though  un- 
equal, are  classics ;  and  their  name  and  influence  will 
not  soon  pass  away.  To  rank  with  them  in  Ecclesiasti- 
cal history,  we  have  Eqhhard,  Milner,  Waddington,  Mil- 
man  I  The  French  have  at  least,  Du-Pin,  Tillemont, 
and  Fleury ;  the  Germans,  Mosheim,  Walch,  Arnold, 
Semler,  Schroeckh,  Gieseler,  and  Neander,  not  to  men- 
tion others  scarcely  inferior  to  any  of  these.  In  America 
little  is  to  be  expected  of  our  labors  in  this  department. 
"We  have  no  libraries  that  would  enable  us  to  verify  the 
quotations  in  Gieseler;  none  perhaps  that  contains  all 
the  important  sources  of  ecclesiastical  history.  Still  all 
other  departments  of  this  field  are  open  to  us,  where  a 
large  library  is  fortunately  not  needed. 

Now  in  Germany  theology  is  still  studied  by  minds 
of  a  superior  order,  and  that  with  all  the  aid  which 
Science  can  offer  in  the  nineteenth  century.  The  man- 
tle of  the  prophet,  ascending  from  France  and  England, 
and  with  it  a  double  portion  of  his  spirit  has  fallen  there. 
Theology  has  but  shifted  her  ground,  not  forsaken  the 
earth  ;  so,  it  is  said,  there  is  always  one  phenix,  and  one 
alone,  in  the  world,  although  it  is  sometimes  in  the 
Arabian,  sometimes  in  the  Persian  Sky.  In  that  coun- 
try, we  say  it  with  thanksgiving,  theology  is  still  pur- 


dorner's  christology.  367 

sued.  Leibnitz  used  to  boast  that  his  countrymen 
came  late  to  philosophy.  It  seems  they  found  their  ac- 
count in  entering  the  field  after  the  mists"  of  morning 
had  left  the  sky,  and  the  barriers  could  be  seen,  when 
the  dew  had  vanished  from  the  grass.  They  have  come 
through  Philosophy  to  Theology  still  later ;  for  the  the- 
ology of  the  Germans  before  Semler's  time,  valuable  as 
it  is  in  some  respects,  is  only  related  to  the  modern,  as 
our  Scandinavian  fathers,  who  worshipped  Odin  and 
Thor,  two  thousand  years  ago,  are  related  to  us.  Ger- 
many is  said  to  be  the  land  of  books.  It  is  par  eminence 
the  land  of  theological  books.  To  look  over  the  Liter- 
atur  Anzeiger,  one  is  filled  with  amazement  and  horror 
at  the  thought,  that  somebody  is  to  read  each  of  the 
books,  and  many  will  attempt  inward  digestion  thereof. 
Some  thousands  of  years  ago  it  was  said,  "  of  writ- 
ing books  there  is  no  end."  What  would  the  same 
man  say  could  he  look  over  the  catalogue  of  the  last 
Leipsic  fair  ? 

We  do  not  wonder  that  the  eyes  of  theologians  are 
turned  attentively  to  Germany  at  this  time,  regarding  it 
as  the  new  East  out  of  which  the  star  of  Hope  is  to  rise. 
Still  it  is  but  a  mixed  result  which  we  can  expect; 
something  will  no  doubt  be  effected  both  of  good  and 
ill.  It  is  the  part  of  men  to  welcome  the  former  and 
ward  off  the  latter.  But  we  will  here  close  our  some- 
what desultory  remarks,  and  address  ourselves  to  the 
work  named  at  the  head  of  this  article. 

In  any  country  but  Germany,  we  think,  this  would 
be  reckoned  a  wonderful  book ;  capable  not  only  of 
making  the  author's  literary  reputation,  but  of  making 
an  epoch  in  the  study  of  Ecclesiastical  history,  and  of 
theology  itself     The   work  is  remarkable  in  respect  to 


368  DORNER'S    CHRISTOLOGT.     ' 

both  of  these  departments  of  thought.  Since  copies  of  it 
are  rare  in  this  country,  we  have  been  induced  to  trans- 
fer to  our  pages  some  of  the  author's  most  instructive 
thoughts  and  conclusions,  and  give  the  general  scope  of 
the  book  itself,  widely  as  it  differs,  in  many  respects, 
from  our  own  view.  Its  author  is  a  Professor  of  The- 
ology at  one  of  the  more  Orthodox  Seminaries  in  Ger- 
many ;  and,  so  far  as  we  know,  this  is  the  only  work  he 
has  given  to  the  public  in  an  independent  form. 

In  one  of  the  prefaces,  —  for  the  work  has  two,  and 
an  introduction   to    boot,  —  the  author   says,   that   as 
Christianity  goes  on  developing  itself,  and  as  men  get 
clearer  notions  of  what  they  contend  about,  all  theolog- 
ical controversies  come  to  turn  more  and  more  upon 
the  person  of  Christ,  as  the  point  where  all  must  be  de- 
cided.    With  this  discovery  much  is  gained,  for  the 
right  decision  depends,  in  some  measure,  on  putting  the 
question  in  a  right  way.      It  is    easy  to  see  that   all 
turns  on  this  question,  whether  it  is  necessary  that  there 
should  be,  and  whether  there  actually  has  been,  such  a 
Christ  as  is  represented  in  the  meaning,  though  not 
always  in  the  words  of  the  Church.     That  is,  whether 
there  must  be  and  has  been  a  being,  in  whom  the  per-  . 
feet  union  of  the  Divine  and  the  Human  has  been  made 
manifest  in  history.     Now  if  Philosophy  can   demon- 
strate incontestably,  that  a  Christ,  in  the  above  sense,  is 
a    notion    self-contradictory   and   therefore   impossible, 
there  can  no  longer  be  any  controversy  between  Phi- 
losophy and  Theology.     Then  the  Christ  and  the  Chris- 
tian   Church,  —  as   such,  —  have   ceased   to  exist;    or 
rather  Philosophy  has  conquered  the  whole  department 
of  Christian  Theology,  as  it  were,  from  the  enemy ;  for 
when  the  citadel  is  taken,  the  outworks  must  surrender 
at  discretion.     On  the  other  hand,  if  it  is  shown  that 


dorner's  christology.  369 

the  notion  of  an  historical,  as  well  as  an  ideal  Christ,  is 
a  necessary  notion,  "  and  the  speculative  construction 
of  the  person  of  Christ "  is  admitted,  therT  Philosophy 
and  Theology,  essentially  and  most  intimately  set  at 
one  with  each  other,  may  continue  their  common  work 
in  peace.  Philosophy  has  not  lost  her  independence, 
but  gained  new  strength.  Now  one  party  says,  this  is 
done  already,  "  the  person  of  Christ  is  constructed 
speculatively;"  while  the  other  says,  the  lists  are  now 
to  be  closed,  inasmuch  as  it  has  been  demonstrated 
that  there  can  be  no  Christ,  who  is  alike  historical  and 
ideal. 

Professor  Dorner  thinks  both  parties  are  wrong ;  that 
"  the  speculative  construction  of  the  Christ "  is  not  yet 
completed.  Or  in  other  words,  that  it  has  not  yet  been 
shown  by  speculative  logic,  that  an  entire  and  perfect 
incarnation  of  the  Infinite,  in  the  form  of  a  perfect  man, 
is  an  eternal  and  absolute  idea,  and  therefore  necessary 
to  the  salvation  and  completion  of  the  human  race ;  nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  has  the  opposite  been  demonstrated. 
Faith  has  been  developed  on  one  side,  and  Reason 
on  the  other,  but  not  united.  Philosophy  and  Religion 
are  only  enamoured  of  one  another,  not  wed ;  and  the 
course  of  their  true  love  is  any  thing  but  smooth.  His 
object  is  to  show  what  has  already  passed  between  the 
two  parties.  Or,  to  speak  without  a  figure,  to  give  the 
net  result  of  all  attempts  to  explain  by  Reason  or  Faith, 
the  idea  of  the  Christ ;  to  show  what  has  been  done,  and 
what  still  remains  to  be  done  in  this  matter.  He  thinks 
there  is  no  great  gulf  fixed  between  Faith  and  Reason  ; 
that  if  Christianity  be  rational,  that  Reason  itself  has 
been  unfolded  and  strengthened  by  Christianity,  and 
may  go  on  with  no  limit  to  her  course. 

He  adds,  moreover,  that  if  Christ  be,  as  theologians 


370  dorner's  ciiristology. 

affirm,  the  key  to  open  the  history  of  the  world,  as  well 
as  to  unloose  all  riddles,  then  it  is  not  modesty,  but  ar- 
rogant inactivity  which  will  not  learn  to  use  this  key, 
and  disclose  all  mysteries.  ■  He  assumes  two  things  in 
this  inquiry,  with  no  attempt  atproof,  namely,  first,  that 
the  idea  of  a  God-man,  —  a  being  who  is  at  the  same 
time  perfect  God  and  perfect  Man,  —  is  the  great  feat- 
ure of  Christianity;  that  this  idea  was  made  actual  in 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  ;  and  again  that  this  idea  of  a  God- 
man  exists,  though  unconsciously,  in  all  religions  ;  that 
it  has  been  and  must  be  the  ideal  of  life  to  be  both  hu- 
man and  divine  ;  a  man  filled  and  influenced  by  the 
power  of  God.  Soon  as  man  turns  to  this  subject,  it 
is  seen  that  a  holy  and  blessed  life  in  God  can  only  be 
conceived  of  as  the  unity  of  the  divine  and  human  life. 
Still  further,  the  ideal  of  a  revelation  of  God  consists  in 
this,  that  God  reveals  himself  not  merely  in  signs  and 
the  phenomena  of  outward  nature,  which  is  blind  and 
dumb,  and  knows  not  him  who  knows  it,  but  that  He 
should  reveal  Himself  in  the  form  of  a  being  who  is 
self-conscious,  and  knows  him  as  he  is  known  by  him. 
In  the  infancy  of  thought,  it  was  concluded  no  ade- 
quate representation  of  God  could  be  made  in  the 
form  of  a  God-man  ;  for  the  Divine  and  Human  were 
reckoned  incompatible  elements,  or  incommensurable 
quantities.  God  was  considered  an  abstract  essence, 
of  whom  even  Being  was  to  be  predicated  only  with 
modesty.  In  its  theoretic  result,  this  differed  little  from 
Atheism ;  for  it  was  not  the  Infinite,  but  an  indefinite 
being,  who  revealed  himself  in  the  finite. 

Now  Christianity  makes  a  different  claim  to  the  God- 
man.  It  has  been  the  constant  faith  of  the  Christian 
Church,  that  in  Jesus  the  union  of  the  Divine  and 
Human  was  effected  in  a  personal  and  peculiar  manner. 


dorner's  christology.  371 

* 

But  the  objection  was  made  early,  and  is  still  re- 
peated, that  this  idea  is  not  original  in  Christianity, 
since  there  were  parallel  historical  manifestations  of 
God  in  the  flesh,  before  Jesus.  But  if  this  objection 
were  real,  it  is  of  no  value.  Its  time  has  gone  by,  since 
Christianity  is  regarded  as  a  doctrine,  and  not  merely 
an  historical  fact ;  as  the  organization  of  truth,  which 
unites  the  scattered  portions  into  one  whole,  that  they 
may  lie  more  level  to  the  comprehension  of  men.  But 
to  settle  this  question,  whether  the  idea  is  original  with 
Christianity,  it  becomes  necessary  to  examine  the  pre- 
vious religions,  and  notice  their  essential  agreement  or 
disagreement  with  this. 

"  In  this  posture  of  affairs,  all  contributions  will  be  welcome  which 
serve  to  give  a  clearer  notion  of  the  ante-christian  religions.  So  far 
as  these  contributions  contain  only  the  truth,  it  is  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence, whether  they  are  made  with  a  design  hostile  or  favorable  to 
Christianity.  For  the  more  perfectly  we  survey  the  field  of  ante- 
christian  religions  in  its  whole  compass,  the  more  clearly,  on  the  one 
hand,  do  we  perceive  the  preparation  made  for  Christianity  by  previ- 
ous religions,  and  its  historical  necessity ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
we  look  back  over  all  the  phenomena  in  this  field,  we  see  not  less 
clearly  the  same  newness  and  originality  of  the  Christian  religion, 
which  has  long  been  admitted  by  every  sound,  historical  mind,  as  it 
looks  forward  and  sees  its  world-traversing  and  inexhaustible  power. 
Yes  ;  we  must  say,  that  it  is  for  the  sake  of  proving  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  and  in  particular  of  its  all-supporting,  fundamental  idea, 
—  the  absolute  incarnation  of  God  in  Christ,  —  that  we  have  aban- 
doned the  more  limited  stand-point  which  was  supported  by  single 
peculiarities,  such  as  inspiration,  prophecy,  and  the  like  ;  that  taking 
our  position  in  the  more  comprehensive  stand-point  supported  by  the 
whole  course  of  religious  history  before  Christ,  we  may  thoroughly 
understand  how  the  whole  ante-christian  world  strives  towards 
Christ ;  how  in  him  the  common  riddle  of  all  previous  religions  is 
solved,  and  how  in  him,  or  still  more  particularly,  in  his  fundamental 
idea,  lies  the  solution  by  which  we  can  understand  all  these  religions 


372      ,     ^         dorner's  christology. 

better  than  they  understood  themselves.  So  long  as  all  religions  are 
not  understood  in  their  essential  relation  to  Christianity,  as  negative 
or  positive  preparations  for  it,  so  long  the  historical  side  thereof  will 
swing  in  the  air."  —  pp.  3,  4. 

He  then  goes  on  to  inquire  if  it  were  possible  this 
idea  of  the  God-man  could  proceed  from  any  religion 
before  Christ,  or  was  extant  in  his  time. ,  The  Jews 
were  hostile  to  it,  as  appears  from  the  various  forms  of 
Ebionitism  embraced  by  the  Jewish  Christians.  Be- 
sides, the  doctrine,  or  the  fact,  finds  no  adequate  expres- 
sion in  Peter,  or  James,  in  Matthew,  Mark,  or  Luke. 
Hence  some  have  conjectured  it  came  from  heathenism, 
and  the  conjecture  seems  at  first  corroborated  by  the 
fact,  that  it  was  not  developed  in  the  Church  until  the 
Gentiles  had  come  in,  and  the  apostles  who  liv'ed  in  the 
midst  of  the  heathens  were  the  men  who  taught  this 
doctrine.*  But  this  natural  suspicion  is  without  foun- 
dation. Heathenism  may  be  divided  into  Eastern  and 
Western.  The  Indian  religion  may  be  taken  as  the 
type  of  one,  the  Greek  of  the  other.  But  neither  sep- 
arates God  distinctly  enough  from  the  world.  Both 
deserve  to  be  called  the  worship  of  nature.f  One  pro- 
ceeds from  the  Divine  in  the  objective  world,  the  other 


*  The  influence  of  heathenism  on  the  opinions  of  the  primitive 
Christians  has  never  yet,  it  would  seem,  had  justice  done  it  by  writers 
of  ecclesiastical  history.  We  see  traces  of  it  in  the  apocryphal 
Gospels  and  Epistles,  some  of  which  are  perhaps  as  ancient  as  the 
canonical  writings.  In  our  view,  the  Divinity  of  Christ,  and  its 
numerous  correlative  doctrines  come  from  this  source. 

f  This  we  think  true  of  neither,  except  while  the  religion  was  in 
its  weak  and  incipient  stages.  In  the  Greek  Religion  there  are  three 
stages,  the  Saturnian,  Olympian,  and  Dionysian.  Only  the  first  is  a 
worship  of  nature. 


dorner's  christology.  373' 

from  the  finite,  and  both  seek  the  common  end,  the 
unity  of  the  Divine  and  Human.  Hence  in  the  East, 
the  various  incarnations  of  Krishna,  in  one  of  which  he. 
assumes  the  human  form  as  the  highest  of  all.  Here. 
the  God  descends  to  earth  and  becomes  a  man.  Again; 
Vishu  actually  becomes  a  man.  The  idea  of  the  God- 
man  appears,  as  in  Christianity,  in  the  condescension, 
of  God  to  the  human  form.  There  is  no  doubt  these 
notions  were  well  known  in  Alexandria  in  the  time  of 
Jesus.  But  the  Christian  idea  cannot  be  explained 
from  this  source,  for  the  true  unity  of  the  divine  and 
human  natures  nowhere  appears,  therefore  the  redemp- 
tion of  men  by  the  Eastern  religion  is  but  momentary. 
The  incarnate  Deity  does  not  draw  men  to  him.  Be- 
sides, the  Dualism  of  this  system  destroys  its  value  and 
inlluence.  It  ends  at  last  in  a  sort  of  Quietism  and 
Pantheism,  which  denies  the  existence  of  the  world. 

The  Greek  religion  is  the  opposite  of  this.  It  deifies 
man,  instead  of  humanizing  God.  It  admitted  Poly- 
theism, though  a  belief  in  Fate  still  lingered  there,  as 
the  last  relic  of  primitive  Pantheism.  It  does  not 
develop  the  ethical  idea,  but  confounds  it  with  physical 
causes.  It  begins  in  part  the  opposite  way  from  the 
Indian,  but  comes  to  the  same  conclusion  at  last,  a 
denial  of  all  but  God,  "  the  one  divine  substance  before 
which  all  the  finite  is  an  illusion."*  Besides,  our 
author  finds  the  moral  element  is  wanting  in  the  Greek 
religion.    In  this  conclusion,  however,  we  think  him  too 


*  This  wliolesale  way  of  disposing  of  centuries  of  philosopliioal  in- 
quiry is  quite  as  unsafe,  as  it  were  to  take  the  middle-age  [)hilosophers, . 
the  Mystics,  the  Sensualists  of  England  and  France,  with  the  Tran- 
seendentalists  of  Germany,  as  the  natural  results  and  legitimate  issue  • 
of  the  Christian  Religion. 

32 


874  dokner's  christology. 

hasty ;  certainly  the  moral  element  has  its  proper  place 
in  such  writers  as  yEschylus,  Pindar,  and  Plato.  It 
would  be  difTicult  to  lind  an  author  in  ancient  or  mod- 
ern times,  in  whom  justice  is  more  amply  done  to  the 
moral  sense,  than  in  the  latter. 

However,  Dr.  Dorner  thinks  Parsism  is  an  exception 
to  the  general  rule  of  ancient  religions.  Here  the 
moral  element^  occurs  in  so  perfect  a  form,  that  some 
will  not  reckon  it  with  the  heathen  religions.  But  this 
has  not  got  above  the  adoration  of  Nature,  which 
defiles  all  the  other  heathen  forms  of  religion.  Besides, 
the  Dualism,  which  runs  through  all  the  oriental  sys- 
tems, allows  no  true  union  of  the  Divine  and  Pluman. 
Accordingly,  the  Parsee  Christians  always  had  a  strong 
tendency  to  Manichfeism,  and  ran  it  out  into  the 
notions  of  the  Docette,  anc(  then  found  that  in  Jesus 
there  was  no  union  of  the  two  natures.  According  to 
Parsism  the  Divine  can  never  coalesce  with  the  Human  ; 
for  the  Infinite  Being,  who  is  the  catise  of  both  Ormusd 
and  Ahriman,  remains  always  immovable  and  at  per- 
fect rest.  It,  however,  admits  a  sort  of  Arian  notion 
of  a  mediator  between  him  and  us,  and  has  a  poor  sort 
of  a  God-man  in  the  person  of  Sosioch,  though  some 
conjecture  this  is  a  more  modern  notion  they  hav«  taken 
from  the  Jews.  Thus  it  appears  the  central  idea  of 
C|iristianity  could  have  proceeded  from  no  heathen 
religion. 

Could  it  come  from  the  Hebrew  system  ?  Quite  as 
little.*  Of  all  the  ancient  religions,  the  Hebrew  alone 
separates  God  from  the  world,  says  our  mistaken  author, 

*  See  the  attempt  of  I\Ir.  Ilenncll,  (Inquiry  into  the  Divine  Ori- 
gin of  Christianity.  London,  1839,  1  vol.  8vo.  pp.  8-23,)  to  derive 
some  of  the  Christian  ideas  from  the  Esseues. 


DOPvNER'S   CimiSTOLOGY.  375 

and  recognizes  the  distinct  personality  of  both  God  and 
man.  This  solves  the  difficulty  of  heathenism.  It 
dwells  on  the  moral  union  of  man  and  Go3,  and  would 
have  it  go  on  and  become  perfect,  and  in  the  end,  God 
\\Tite  the  law  in  the  heart,  as  in  the  beginning  He  wrote 
it  on  tables  of  stone.*  But  in  avoiding  the  adoration 
of  Nature,  the  Jews  took  such  a  view  of  the  Deity,  that 
it  seemed  impossible  to  them  that  he  should  incarnate 
himself  in  man.  All  the  revelations  of  God  in  the  Old 
Testament  are  not  the  remotest  approach  to  an  incar- 
nation like  that  in  Jesus.  They  made  a  great  chasm 
between  God  and  man,  which  they  attempted  to  fill  up 
with  angels,  and  the  like.f  The  descriptions  of  Wis- 
dom in  Proverbs,  the  Apocrypha,  and  Philo,  are  not  at 
all  like  the  Christian  incarnation.  The  Alexandrian 
Jews  assimilated  to  the  Greek  system,  and  adopted  the 
Platonic  view  of  the  Logos,  while  the  Palestine  Jews, 
instead  of  making  their  idea  of  the  Messiah  more  lofty 
and  pure,  and  rendering  it  more  intense,  only  gave  it  a 
more  extensive  range,  and  thought  of  a  political  deliv- 
erer. Thus  it  appears  the  idea  of  a  God-man  could 
not  come  from  any  of  these  sources,  nor  yet  from  any 
contemporary  philosophy  or  religion.  It  must  therefore 
be  original  with  Christianity  itself.  It  was  impossible 
for  a  heathen  or  Hebrew  to  say  in  the   Christian  sense, 

*  If  we  understand  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  and  St.  Paul,  they  both 
teach  that  He  did  write  the  law  in  the  heart  in  the  beginninfj^  else  the 
law  of  stone  were  worthless. 

t  Here  also  the  author  fails  to  notice  the  striking  fact  of  the  regu- 
lar progress  of  the  theophanies  of  the  Old  Testament.  1.  God  ap- 
pears himself,  in  human  form,  and  speaks  and  eats  with  man.  2.  It 
is  an  (UH/(d  of  God  who  appears.  3.  He  speaks  only  in  visions, 
fhoitr/hfs,  and  the  like,  and  his  appearance  is  entirely  subjectivii.  We 
see  the  same  progress  in  all  primitive  religious  nations. 


876  dorner's  christology. 

that  a  man  was  God,  or  the  son  of  God.  But  all  for- 
mer religions  were  only  a  prcrparatio  evangelica  in  the 
highest  sense.  This  fact  shows  that  Christianity  ex- 
presses what  all  religions  sought  to  utter,  and  combines 
in  itself  the  truths  of  heathenism  and  Judaism. 

"  Judaism  was  great  througli  the  idea  of  the  absolute,  personal 
God ;  the  greatest  exoellenoe  of  heathenism  is  the  idea  of  the  most 
intimate  nearness  and  residence  of  a  divine  life  in  a  free  human  form. 
But  the  idea  of  the  personal  existence  of  God  in  Christ  was  both  of 
them  united  together  into  a  higher  unity.  According  to  the  heathen 
way  of  considering  the  matter,  the  divine,  alone  absolute  and  imper- 
sonal Being,  who  soars  above  the  gods,  —  if  it  is  possible  for  him  to 
reveal  himself,  —  must  have  first  in  Christ  come  to  a  personal  con- 
sciousness of  himself,  which  he  had  not  before  ;  but  this  would  Ijc  the 
generation  of  a  personal  God,  througli  the  form  of  human  life,  and 
therefore  a  human  act.  Judaism  had  for  its  foundation  not  an  ob- 
scure, impersonal  being,  a  merely  empty  substance,  but  a  subject,  a 
personality.  But  to  such  as  admitted  its  form  of  Monotheism,  the 
incarnation  of  God  seemed  blasphemy.  '  But  Christianity  is  the  truth 
of  both  systems.  In  the  personality  of  Christ,  it  sees  as  well  a  man 
who  is  God,  as  a  God  who  is  man.  "With  the  one  it  sees  in  Jesus,  as 
well  the  truth  of  the  Hellenic  Apotheosis  of  human  nature,  as  with 
the  other  it  sees  the  complete  condescension  of  God,  which  is  the  fun- 
damental idea  in  the  East.  But  it  recjuired  long  and  various  war- 
fare, before  the  Chl-if-tian  principle  went  through  the  Greek  and 
Jewish  ju'inciple,  and  presented  to  the  understanding  its  true  form. 
We  shall  sec  that  even  now  its  work  is  not  completed."  *  —  pp.  33,  34 . 

He  next  turns  to  consider  the  historical  development 
of  this  central  idea,  which  Jesus  brought  to  light  in 
word  and  life.  This  remained  always  enveloped  in  the 
Chnrch,  but  it  was  not  dcvc/ojied,  except  gradually,  and 
part  by  part.     Then  he  proceeds  on  the  clever  hypothe- 

*We  have  given  a  pretty  free  version  of  portions  of  this  extract, 
and  are  not  quite  certain  that  in  all  cases  we  have  taken  the  author's 
meaninfT. 


dorner's  ciiristology.  377 

sis,  that  all  moral  and  religious  truth  was  potentiallij 
involved  m  the  early  teachers,  though  not  professed  con- 
sciously, and  actually  evolved  by  them  ;  a  maxim  which 
may  be  applied  equally  to  all  philosophers,  of  all  schools, 
for  every  man  involves  all  truth,  though  only  here  and 
there  a  wise  man  evolves  a  little  thereof.  Now  the 
Church  did  not  state  all  this  doctrine  in  good  ,set 
speech,  yet  it  knew  intuitively  how  to  separate  false 
from  true  doctrine,  not  as  an  individual  good  man  sepa- 
rates wrong  from  right,  by  means  of  conscience.  This 
is  rather  more  true  of  the  Church,  than  it  is  of  particu- 
lar teachers,  who  have  not  been  inventors  of  truth,  but 
only  mouths  which  uttered  the  truth  possessed  by  the 
Church.*  However,  amid  conflicting  opinions,  where 
he  gets  but  intimations  of  the  idea^of  a  God-man,  and 
amid  many  doctrines  taught  consciously,  he  finds  this 
tendency  to  glorify  Christ,  even  to  deify  him,  which 
he  regards  as  a  proof  that  the  great  central  idea  lay 
there.  This  also  we  take  to  be  a  very  great  mistake, 
and  think  the  tendency  to  deify  persons  arose  from 
several  causes  ;  such  as  the  popular  despair  of  man. 
The  outward  aspect  of  the  world  allows  us  to  form  but 
a  low  opinion  of  man  ;  the  retrospect  is  still  worse. 
Besides  some  distrusted  the  inspiration  which  God 
gives  man  on  condition  of  holiness  and  purity.  There- 
fore, when  any  one  rose  up  and  far  transcended  the 
achievements  and  expectations  of  mere  vulgar  souls, 
they  said  he  is  not  a  man,  but  a  god,  at  least  the  son  of 
a  god  ;  human  nature  is  not  capable  of  so  much.  Hence 
all  the  heroes  of  times  pretty  ancient  are  either  gods  or 


*  But  these  mouths  of  the  Church  seem  smitten  with  the  old  spirit 
of  Babel,  for  their  "  language  was  confounded,  and  they  did  not  un- 
derstand one  another's  speech,"  nor  always  their  own,  we  fancy. 

32* 


378  dorner's  christology. 

the  descendants  of  gods,  or  at  least  miraculouslu  inspired 
to   do   their   particular   works.     Then    the    polytheistic 
notions  of  the  new  converts  to  Christianity  favored  this 
popular  despair,  by  referring  the  most  shining  examples 
of  goodness  and  wisdom  to  the  gods.     Hence,  for  those 
who  had  believed  that  Hercules,  Bacchus,  and  Devanisi 
were  men,  and  became  gods  by  the  special  grace  of  the 
Supreme,  it  was  easy  to  elevate  Jesus,  and  give  him 
power  over  their  former  divinities,  or  even  expel  them, 
;if  this  course  were  necessary.     Now  there  are  but  two 
scales  to  this  balance,  and  what  was  added  to  the  divin- 
ity of  Jesus  was  taken  from  his  humanity,  and  so  the 
power  of  man  underrated.     Hence  we  always  find,  that 
as  a  party  assigns  Jesus  a  divine,  extra-human,  or  mi- 
raculous character,  on  the  one  hand,  just  so  far  it  de- 
grades man,  on  the  other,  and  takes  low  views  of  hu- 
man nature.     The  total  depravity  of  man,  and  the  total 
divinity  of  Jesus,   come   out  of  the  same  logical  root. 
To  examine  the  history  of  the  world,  by  striking  the 
words  and  life  of  Jesus  out  of  the  series  of  natural  and 
perfectly  human  actions,  and  then  deciding  as  if  such  ac- 
tions had  never  been,  seems  to  us  quite  as  absurd  as  it 
would  be,  in  giving  a  description  of  Switzerland,  to  strike 
out  the  Alps,  and  the  lakes,  and  then  say  the  country  was 
level  and  dull,  monotonous  and  dry.     To  us,  the  popu- 
lar notions  of  the  character  of  Jesus  "  have  taken  away 
our  Lord,  and  we  know  not  ir/icre  they  have  laid  him." 
To  our  apprehension,  Jesus  was  much  greater  than  the 
evangelists  represent  him.     We  would  not  measure  him 
by  the  conceptions  formed  by  Jewish  or  heathen  con- 
verts, but  by  the  long  stream  of  light  he  shed  on  the  first 
three  centuries  after  his  death,  and  through  them  on  all 
time  since. 

But  to  return   to  our  task.     Dr.  Dorner  admits  this 


dorner's  christology.  379 

idea  does  not  appear  in  the  earliest  Christian  writings, 
which  we  think  is  quite  as  inexplicable,  taking  his  stand- 
point, as  it  would  be  if  Columbus,  after  fhe  discovery 
of  the  new  continent,  had  founded  a  school  of  geogra- 
phers, and  no  gne  of  his  pupils  had  ever  set  down 
America  in  his  map  of  the  world,  or  alluded  to  it,  ex- 
cept by  implication.  But  as  Christianity  went  on  de- 
veloping, it  took  some  extra- Christian  ideas  from  the 
other  religions.  Thus  from  Judaism  it  took  the  notion 
of  a  primitive  man,  and  a  primitive  prophet ;  from  hea- 
thenism, the  doctrine  of  the  Logos.  These  two  rival 
elements  balanced  each  other,  and  gave  a  universal  de- 
A'elopment  to  the  new  principle.  Thus  while  Chris- 
tianity attacked  its  foes,  it  built  up  its  own  dogmatics, 
not  unlike  the  contemporaries  of  Ezra,  who  held  the 
sword  in  one  hand,  and  the  trowel  in  the  other.  He 
finds  three  periods  in  the  history  of  Christology.  I. 
That  of  the  establishment  of  the  doctrine,  that  there 
were  two  essential  elements  in  Jesus,  the  Divine  and 
Human.  H.  Period  of  the  one-sided  elevation  of  either 
the  one  or  the  other ;  this  has  two  epochs.  1.  From 
the  Council  of  Nice  to  the  Reformation  ;  period  of  the 
divine  side.  2.  From  the  Reformation  to  Kant ;  period 
of  the  human  side.  HI.  Period  of  the  attempt  to  show 
both  in  him,  and  how  they  unite.  We  must  pass  very 
hastily  over  the  rest  of  the  work  ;  for  after  we  have  thus 
minutely  de&cribed  his  stand-point  and  some  of  his 
general  views,  and  have  shown  his  method,  the  stu- 
dent of  history  will  see  what  his  opinions  must  be  of 
the  great  teachers  in  the  Church,  whose  doctrines  are 
well  known. 

To  make  the  new  doctrines  of  Christianity  intelligible, 
the  first  thing  was  to  get  an  adequate  expression,  in  the- 
ological dogmas,  of  the  nature  of  Christ.     On  this  ques- 


380  dorner's  ciiristology. 

tion  the   Christian  world  divides  into  two  great  parties, 

—  one  follows  a  Hebrew,  the  other  a  Greek  tendency, 

—  one  taking  the  human,  the  other  the  divine  side  of 
Christ.  Hence  come  two  independent  Christologies, 
the  one  without  the  divine,  the  other  without  the  human 
nature  in  Jesus.  These  are  the  Ebionites  and  the  Do- 
cetfe.  "  Docetism,  considered  in  antithesis  with  Ebionit- 
ism,  is  a  very  powerful  witness  of  the  deep  and  won- 
derful impression  of  its  divinity,  which  the  new  prin- 
ciple had  made  on  mankind  at  its  appearance;  an  im- 
pression which  is  by  no  means  fully  described  by  all 
that  Ebionitism  could  say  of  a  new,  great,  and  holy 
prophet  that  had  risen  up.  On  the  other  hand,  Ebionit- 
ism itself,"  in  its  lack  of  ideal  tendency,  is  a  powerful 
evidence  on  the  historical  side  of  Christianity,  by  its 
rigid  adhesion  to  the  human  appearance  of  Christ,  which 
the  other  denied."  —  p.  36.  Strange  as  it  may  seem, 
these  two  antithetic  systems  ran  into  one  another,  and  lead 
both  of  them  this  common  ground,  that  God  and  man 
could  not  be  joined;  for  while  the  Ebionites  said  Jesus 
was  a  mere  man,  the  Christ  remained  a  pure  ideal  not 
connected  with  the  body,  a  redemption  was  effected  by 
God,  and  Jesus  was  the  symbol ;  while  the  DocetaB,  de- 
nying the  bodt/  of  Jesus  had  any  objective  reality,  like- 
wise left  the  Christ  a  pure  ideal,  never  incarnated. 
"  Both  were  alike  unsatisfactory  to  the  Christian  mind. 
Both  left  alike  unsatisfied  the  necessity  of  finding  in 
Christ  the  union  of  the  human  and  divine;  therefore 
this  objection  may  be  made  to  both  of  them,  which,  from 
the  nature  of  things,  is  the  most  significant,  namely,  that 
man  is  not  redeemed  by  them,  for  God  has  not  taken 
the  human  nature  upon  himself,  and  sanctified  it  by 
thus  assuming  it.  The  Church,  guided  rather  by  an  in- 
ternal tact  and  necessity,  than  by  any  perfect  insight, 


dorner's  christology.  881 

could  sketch  no  comprehensible  figure  of  Christ  in  defi- 
nite lines.  But  by  these  two  extreme  doctrines  it  was 
.advanced  so  far,  that  it  became  clearly  corffecious  of  the 
necessity,  in  general,  of  conceiving  of  the  Redeemer  as 
divine  and  human  at  the  same  time."  —  p.  39. 

Various  elements  of  this  doctrine  were  expressed  by 
the  various  teachers,  in  the  early  ages.  Thus,  on  the 
divine  side  it  was  taught  first,  by  the  Pseudo-Clement, 
Paul  of  Samosata,  and  Sabellius,  that  a  higlier  poicer, 
dwelt  in  Christ;  next  by  Hippolytus,  that  it  was  not 
merely  a  higher  pence?',  but  a  hypostasis  that  dwelt  in 
Christ.  Tertullian,  Clement,  and  Dionysius  of  Alexan- 
dria, with  Origen,  considered  this  subordinate  to  the 
Father,  though  the  latter  regarded  it  as  eternal/ //  begot- 
ten. The  next  step  was  to  consider  this  hypostasis  not 
merely  subordinate,  but  eternal ;  nor  this  only,  but  of 
the  same  essence  with  the  Father.  This  was  developed 
in  the  controversy  between  Dionysius  of  Rome  and  of 
Alexandria ;  between  Athanasius  and  Arius.  At  the 
same  time  the  human  side  w^as  also  developed.  Clem- 
ent and  Origen  maintained,  in  opposition  to  the  Gnos- 
tics, that  Chribt  had  an  actual  human  body.  Then 
Apollinaris  taught  that  Christ  had  a  human  soul  (i/i'i'/), 
but  the  Logos  supplied  the  place  of  a  human  tiiiitd  (rove). 
But  in  opposition  to  him,  Gregory  of  Nazianzen  taught 
that  he  had  a  human  mind  also.  Thus  the  elements  of 
the  Christ  are  "  speculatively  constructed  "  on  the  hu- 
man and  divine  side;  but  still  all  their  elements  were 
not  united  into  a  human  personal  character,  —  for  the 
human  nature  of  Christ  was  still  regarded  as  impersonal. 
But  attempts  were  made  also  to  unite  these  parts  to- 
gether, and  construct  a  whole  person.  This,  however, 
led  rather  to  a  mixture  than  an  organic  and  consistent 
union  ;  therefore  the  separateness  and  distinctness  of  the 


382  dohxer's  ciiristology. 

two  natures  also  required  to  be  set  forth.  This  was  done 
very  clearly.  The  Council  of  Nice  declared  he  was  pei'- 
fect  God;  that  of  Chalcedon,  that  he  was  perfect  man 
also,  but  did  not  determine  how  the  two  natures  were 
reconciled  in  the  same  character.  "  The  distinctive 
character  of  these  two  natures"  —  we  quote  the  words 
of  Leo  the  Great —  "  was  not  taken  away  by  the  union, 
but  rather  the  peculiarity  of  each  nature  is  kept  distinct, 
and  runs  together  with  the  other,  into  one  Prosopon  and 
one  Hypo  stasis. ''''  *     Next  follow  the  attempts   to  con- 

*  We  give  the  Greek  words  Prosnpon  and  Hi/pnsta.^is,  and  not  the 
common  terms  derived  from  the  Latin.  The  subtleties  of  this  doc- 
trine can  only  be  expressed  in  the  Greek  tongue.  A  Latin  Christian 
could  believe  in  three  persona'  and  one  substcnitia,  for  he  had  no  bet- 
ter terms,  while  the  Greek  Christian  reckoned  this  heretical,  if  not 
atheistical,  as  he  believed  in  one  essence  and  tliree  substances.  But  to 
say  three  persons  —  rpianpoauna  —  {n  the  Godhead,  was  heresy  in 
Greece,  as  to  say  three  sidjstances,  (tres  suhstantke,)  was  heresy  at 
Eome.  Well  says  Augustine,  apologizing  for  the  Latin  language, 
"  dictum  est  tres  personal,  non  ut  illud  diceretur,  sed  ut  non  tacere- 
tur."  —  De  Trinitate,  lib.  v.  c.  9. 

St.  Augustine  has  some  thoughts  on  this  head,  whicli  may  surprise 
some  ot  his  followers  at  this  day.  "  And  we  I'ocognize  in  ourselves 
an  image  of  God,  that  is,  of  the  Supreme  Trinity,  not  indeed  equal, 
nay,  far  and  widely  different ;  not"  coeternal,  and  (to  express  the 
whole  more  briefly),  not  of  the  same  substance  with  God;  yet  that, 
than  which  of  all  things  made  by  Ilim  none  in  nature  is  nearer  to 
Gcrd  ;  which  image  is  yet  to  be  perfected  by  re-formation,  that  it  may 
be  nearest  in  likeness  also.  For  we  both  are  to  know  that  we  are  to 
love  to  be  this  and  to  know  it.  In  these  then,  moreover,  no  falsehood 
resembling  truth  perplexes  us."  —  Civ.  Dei.  Lib.  xi.  c.  ■2G,rs  translated 
in  Pusefj's  ed.  of  Augustine's  Confessions.  London:  1840.  1  vok  8vo. 
p.  283,  note. 

The  late  Dr.  Emmons  seems  aware  of  the  imperfection  of  language, 
and  its  inability  to  express  the  idea  of  a  Trinity.  "  Indeed  there  is 
no  word,  in  any  language,  which  can  convey  a  precise  idea  of  this  in- 
comprehensible distinction  ;  for  it  is  not  similar  to  any  other  dlstinc- 


dorner's  christology.  383 

struct  one  person  out  of  these  two  natures.  Some  said 
there  was  one  Will,  others  two  Wills,  in  the  person  of 
Christ.  This  was  the  quarrel  of  the  Moriothelites  and 
the  Dyothelites.  Others  said  the  union  was  effected  by 
the  loss  of  the  attributes  of  the  Human  or  Divine  being; 
some  supposing  the  one  passed  into  and  so  became  the 
other,  or  that  both  coalesced  in  a  tertium  quid,  a  i,vvdeToc 
^vcL^.  But  it  became  orthodox  to  affirm  that  each  re- 
tained all  its  peculiar  attributes,  and  so  the  two'  were 
united.  Now  this  doctrine  may  seem  very  wise,  because 
it  is  very  puzzling ;  but  the  same  words  may  be  applied 
to  other  things.  We  have  very  little  skill  in  showing 
up  absurdities,  but  can  apply  all  this  language  to  very 
different  matters,  and  it  shall  sound  quite  as  well  as  be- 
fore. Thus  we  may  take  a  Circle  instead  of  the  Father, 
and  a  Triangle  for  the  Son,  and  say  the  two  natures 
were  found  in  one,  the  circle  became  a  triangle,  and  yet 
lost  none  of  its  circularity,  while  the  triangle  became  a 
circle  yet  lost  none  of  its  triangularity.  The  union  of 
the  two  was  perfect,  the  distinctive  character  of  each 
being  preserved.  They  corresponded  point  for  point, 
area  for  area,  centre  for  centre,  circumference  for  cir- 
cumference, yet  was  one  still  a  circle,  the  other  a  trian- 
gle. But  both  made  up  the  circle-triangle.  The  one 
was  not  inscribed,  nor  the  other  circumscribed.  We 
would  by  no  means  deny  the  great  fact,  which  we  think 
lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  notion  of  the  trinity,  a  fact, 
however,  which  it  seems  to  conceal  as  often  as  to  ex- 
press in  our  times,  that  the  Deity  diffuses  and  therefore 


tion  in  the  minds  of  men,  so  that  it  is  very  immaterial  whether  "we  use 
the  name  person,  or  any  other  name,  or  a  circumlocution  instead  of  a 
name,  in  discoursing  upon  this  subject."  —  Sermon  iv.  p.  87.  Wren- 
tham:  1800. 


384  dorner's  christology. 

incarnates  himself  more  or  less  perfectly  in  human  be- 
ings, and  especially  in  Jesus,  the  climax  of  human  be- 
ings, through  whom  "proceed"  the  divine  influences, 
which  also  "  proceed"  from  the  Father.  Hence  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Holy  Ghost.  This  truth,  we  think,  is  ex- 
pressed in  all  religions;  in  the  incarnations  of  V^ishnu; 
the  Polytheistic  notions  of  the  Greeks;  the  angels,  arch- 
angels, and  seraphs  that  make  up  the  Amshaspand  of 
the  Persians,  which  Daniel  seems  to  imitate,  and  the 
author  of  the  Apocalypse  to  have  in  his  eye. 

But  to  return.  These  points  fixed,  the  Catholic 
church  dwelt  chiefly  on  the  Divine  in  Christ,  and  con- 
tinued to  do  so  till  the  Reformation,  while  the  human 
side  was  represented  by  heretics  and  mystics,  whom 
here  we  have  not  space  to  name. 

We  now  pass  over  some  centuries,  in  which  there 
was  little  life  and  much  death  in  the  Church;  —  times 
when  the  rays  of  religious  light,  as  they  came  through 
the  darkness,  fell  chietly,  it  seems,  on  men  whom  the 
light  rendered  suspicious  to  the  Church,  —  and  come 
down  to  times  after  the  Reformation.  After  the  great 
battles  had  been  fought  through,  and  the  Council  of 
Trent  held  its  sessions,  and  the  disturbances,  incident 
to  all  great  stirs  of  thought,  had  passed  over,  and  the 
oriental  and  one-sided  view  of  Christ's  nature  had  been 
combated,  the  human  side  of  it  comes  out  once  more, 
into  its. due  prominence.  "  By  the  long  one-sided  con- 
templation of  the  Divine  in  Christ,  his  person  came  to 
stand  as  somewhat  absolutely  suj)ernatural,  as  the  other 
side  of  and  beyond  human  nature  ;  something  perfectly 
inaccessible  to  the  sul)jective  thougiit,  while  it  is  the 
greatest  thing  in  Christianity  to  recognize  our  brother 
in  him."  With  the  Reformation  there  had  come  a  sub- 
jective tendency,  which  laid  small  stress  on  the  old  no- 


DORNER'S   CimiSTOLOGY.  385 ■• 

tions  of  Christ,  in  which  the  objective  divine  nature  had 
overlaid  and  crushed  the  subjective  and  human  nature 
in  him.  This  new  subjective  tendency  is  a  distinctive 
feature  of  the  Reformation.  It  shows  itself  in  the  doc- 
trine of  Justification  by  Faith,  and  quite  as  powerfully 
in  the  altered  form  of  Christology.  But  here,  too,  we 
must  tread  with  rapid  feet,  and  vest  on  only  two  of  the 
numerous  systems  of  this  period,  one  from  the  Reform- 
ers themselves,  the  other  from  a  Theosophist.  The  hu- 
man nature  is  capable  of  divinity,  (humana  natura 
divinitatis  capax)  said  the  early  Protestants ;  what 
Christ  has  first  done,  all  may  do  afterwards.  Well  said 
Martin  Luther,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  modern  Prot- 
estants, who  learn  ecclesiastical  history  from  the  "  Li- 
brary of  useful  knowledge,"  "  Lo,  Christ  takes  our  birth 
(that  is,  the  sinfulness  of  human  nature,)  from  us  unto 
himself,  and  sinks  it  in  his  birth,  and  gives  us  his,  that 
we  thereby  may  become  pure  and  new,  as  if  it  were 
our  own,  so  that  every  Christian  may  enjoy  this  birth 
of  Christ  not  less  than  if  he  also,  like  Jesus,  were  born 
bodily  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Whoso  disbelieves  or  doubts 
this,  the  same  is  no  Christian."  Again.  "  This  is  the 
meaning  of  Esaias,  To  us  a  child  is  born,  to  us  a  son  is 
given.  To  us,  to  us,  to  us  is  he  born,  and  to  us  given. 
Therefore  look  to  it,  that  thou  not  only  gettest  out  of  the 
Evangel  a  fondness  for  the  history  itself,  but  that  thou 
makest  this  birth  thine  own,  and  exchangest  with  him, 
becomest  free  from  thy  birth,  and  passest  over  to  his, — 
then  thou  indeed  shalt  sit  in  the  lap  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
and  art  her  dear  child."  This  thought  lay  at  the  back- 
ground of  the  Reformation,  which  itself  was  but  an  im- 
perfect exhibition  of  that  great  principle.  He  that  will 
look  finds  traces  of  the  action  of  this  same  principle  in 
the    Greek    revival    of   Religion,    five    centuries    before 

33 


386  dorner's  ciiristology. 

Christ;  in  the  numerous  mystical  sects  from  the  first 
century  to  the  Reformation  ;  in  such  writers  as  Ruys- 
briick,  Harphius,  Meister  Eckhart,  Suso,  Tauler,  the  St 
Victors,  and  many  others.  Perhaps  it  appears  best  in 
that  little  book,  once  well  known  in  England  under  the 
title  Theologia  Germana,  and  now  studied  in  Germany 
and  called  Deutsche  Theologie ;  a  book  of  which  Lu- 
ther says,  in  the  preface  to  his  edition  of  it,  in  1520, 
"  Next  to  the  Bible  and  St.  Augustine,  I  have  never 
met  with  a  book,  from  which  I  have  learnt  more  what 
God,  Christ,  man,  and  all  things  are.  Read  this  little 
book  who  will,  and  then  say,  whether  our  theology  is 
old  or  new  ;  for  this  little  book  is  not  new." 

We  give  a  few  words  from  it,  relating  to  the  incarna- 
tion of  God,  for  the  private  ear  of  such  as  think  all  is 
new  which  they  never  heard  before,  and  all  naughty 
things  exist  only  in  modern  German.  It  says,  man 
comes  to  a  state  of  union  with  God,  "  when  he  feels 
and  loves  no  longer  this  or  that,  or  his  own  self,  but 
only  the  eternal  good  ;  so  likewise  God  loves  not  him- 
self as  himself,  but  as  the  eternal  good,  and  if  there  were 
somewhat  better  than  God,  the  God  would  love  that. 
The  same  takes  place  in  a  divine  man,  or  one  united 
with  God,  else  he  is  not  united  with  him.  Tiiis  state 
existed  in  Christ  in  all  its  perfection,  else  he  would  not 
be  the  Christ.  If  it  were  possible  that  a  man  should  be 
perfect  and  entire,  in  true  obedience  be  as  the  human 
nature  of  Christ  was,  that  man  would  be  one  with 
Christ,  and  would  be  by  grace,  what  he  was  by  nature. 
Man  in  this  state  of  obedience  would  be  one  with  God, 
for  he  would  be  not  himself,  but  God's  Own  (Eigen), 
and  God  himself  would  then  alone  become  man.  Christ 
is  to  you  not  merely  the  Objective,  isolated  in  his  sub- 
limity, but  we  are  all  called  to  this,  that  God  should 


dorner's  christology.  387 

become  man  in  us.  He  that  believes  in  Christ  believes 
that  his  (Christ's)  life  is  the  noblest  and  best  of  all  lives, 
and  so  far  as  the  life  of  Christ  is  man,  ib  far  also  is 
Christ  in  him."  In  this  book,  —  and  its  ideas  are  as 
old  in  this  shape,  as  the  time  of  Dionysius  the  Areopa- 
gite,  —  the  historical  Christ  is  only  the  primitive  type, 
the  divine  idea  of  man,  who  appears  only  as  a  model 
for  us,  and  we  may  be  all  that  he  was,  and  we  are 
Christians  only  in  so  far  as  we  attain  this.  It  is  only  on 
this  hypothesis,  we  take  it,  that  there  can  be  a  Christol- 
ogy which  does  not  abridge  the  nature  of  man.*  This 
same  idea,  —  that  all  men  are  capable  of  just  the  same 
kind  and  degree  of  union  with  God,  which  Jesus  at- 
tained to,  —  runs  through  all  the  following  Christologies. 
It  appears  in  a  modified  form  in  Osiander  and  Schwenk- 
feld,  whom  we  shall  only  name,  f     But  they  all  place 

*  Dr.  Baur,  a  very  able  Trinitarian  writer  and  Professor  at  Tubin- 
gen, sums  up  the  various  Christological  theories  in  this  way.  Eecon- 
ciliation  must  be  regarded,  either,  (1)  as  a  necessary  process  in  the 
development  of  the  Deity  himself,  as  he  realizes  the  idea  of  his  being, 
or  (2)  as  an  analogous  and  necessary  process  in  the  development 
of  man,  as  he  becomes  reconciled  with  himself,  the  one  is  wholly  ob- 
jective, the  other  wholly  subjective,  or  (3)  as  the  mediation  of  a 
tertium.  quid,  which  holds  the  human  and  divine  natures  both,  so  in- 
volves both  the  above.  In  this  case  reconciliation  rests  entirely  on 
the  historical  fact,  which  must  be  regarded  as  the  necessary  condition 
of  reconciliation  between  God  and  man,  of  course  he,  who  takes  this 
latter  view,  considers  Jesus  as  a  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 
See  his  Die  Christliche  Lehre  von  der  Versohnung  in  ihrer  ge- 
schichtliche  Entwiekelung,  etc.     Tub.  1838. 

t  See  Osiander's  Confessio  de  unico  Mediatore  J.  C.  et  Justifica- 
tione  fidei,  1551.  His  Epistola  in  qua  confutantur,  etc.,  1549.  See 
also  Schwenkfeld  qua?stiones  von  Erkentnis  J.  C.  und  seiner 
Glorien,  15G1,  von  der  Speyse  des  ewigen  Lebeiis,  1547.  Schwenk- 
feld's  Christology  agrees  closely  in  many  respects  with  that  of  Swe- 
denborji. 


388  dorner's  ciiristology. 

the  historical  below  the  eternal  Christ  which  is  formed 
in  the  heart,  and  here  commences  what  Dr.  Dorner  calls 
the  degeneracy  of  the  principle  of  the  Reformers,  though 
the  antithesis  between  nature  and  grace  was  still  ac- 
knowledged by  the  Protestants.  But  as  our  author 
thinks,  the  subjective  view  received  a  one-sided  devel- 
opment, especially  in  Servetus  and  the  Socinians,  who 
differ,  however,  in  this  at  least,  that  while  the  former, 
in  his  pantheistic  way,  allows  Christ  to  be,  in  part, 
uncreated  (res  increata)  the  latter  considers  him  cer- 
tainly a  created  being,  to  whom  God  had  imparted  the 
divine  attributes. 

We  pass  over  Theophrastus  and  Paracelsus,  and  give 
a  few  extracts  from  Valentine  Weigel's  "  Giildene 
Griff."  With  him,  man  is  an  epitome  of  the  whole 
world,  —  a  favorite  notion  with  many  mystics,  —  all  his 
knowledge  is  self-knowledge.  "  The  eye,  by  which  all 
things  are  seen,  is  man  himself,  but  only  in  reference  to 
natural  knowledge,  for  in  supernatural  knowledge  man 
himself  is  not  the  eye,  but  God  himself  is  both  the  light 
and  the  eye  in  us.  Our  eye  therefore  must  be  passive, 
and  not  active.  Yet  God  is  not  foreign  to  men  in 
whom  he  is  the  eye,  but  that  passive  relation  of  man  to 
him  has  this  significance,  that  man  is  the  yielding  in- 
strument by  which  God  becomes  the  seeing  eye."  This 
Light  in  us,  or  the  Word,  is  for  him  the  true  Christ, 
and  the  historical  God-man  disappears  entirely  in  the 
backirround.  The  book  whence  all  wisdom  comes  is 
God's  Word,  a  book  written  by  the  finger  of  God  in 
the  heart  of  all  men,  though  all  cannot  read  it.  Out  of 
this  are  all  l)ooks  written.  This  book  of  life,  to  which 
the  Sacred  Scriptures  are  an  external  testimony,  is  the 
likeness  of  God  in  man  ;  the  Seed  of  God  ;  the  Light ; 


dorner's  christology.  389 

the  Word  ;  the  Son  ;  Christ.  This  book  lies  concealed 
in  the  heart ;  concealed  in  the  flesh  ;  concealed  in  the 
letter  of  Scriptures.  But  if  it  were  not  ifl  the  heart,  it 
could  not  be  found  in  the  flesh  and  the  Scripture.  If 
this  were  not  preached  within  us,  if  it  were  not  always 
within  us,  —  though  in  unbelief,  —  we  could  have  noth- 
ing of  it.  A  doctrine  common  enough  with  the  fathers 
of  the  first  three  or  four  centuries.  If  we  had  remained 
in  Paradise,  we  should  never  have  needed  the  outward 
Word  of  Scripture,  or  the  historical  incarnation  of 
Jesus.*  But  expelled  from  Paradise,  and  fallen  through 
sin,  it  is  needful  that  we  be  born  again  of  Christ,  for 
we  have  lost  the  holy  Flesh  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
must  recover  both  from  Christ.  Because  we  cannot 
read  this  inner  book,  God  will  alter  our  spirit  by  Scrip- 
tures and  Sermons.  All  books  are  only  for  fallen  men. 
Christ  was  necessary  to  the  race,  as  the  steel  to  the  stone, 
but  his  oflice  is  merely  that  of  a  Prophet  and  Preacher 
of  Righteousness,  for  God  was  incarnate  in  Abel,  Noah, 
Adam,  and  Abraham,  as  well  as  in  Jesus,  "  and  the 
Lord  from  Heaven"  exists  potentially  in  all  men;  the 
external  Christ,  who  was  born  of  Mary,  as  an  expres- 
sive and  visible  model  of  the  internal  Christ.  In  a  word, 
he  makes  Christ  the  universal  divine  spirit,  shed  down 
into  man,  though  it  lies  buried  and  immovable  in  most 
men.  But  whenever  it  comes  to  consciousness,  and  is 
lived  out,  there  is  an  incarnation  of  God. 


*  Quaint  George  Herbert  has  a  similar  thought.     We  quote  from 
memory. 

"  For  sure  when  Adam  did  not  know 
To  sin,  or  sin  to  smother, 
He  might  to  Heaven  from  Paradise  go, 
As  from  one  room  to  another." 

33* 


390  dorner's  christology. 

These  views  are  shared  by  many  teachers,  who  mod- 
ify them  more  or  less,  of  whom  we  need  mention  but  a 
few  of  the  more  prominent ;  Poiret,  Henry  More,  Bishops 
Fowler  and  Gastrell,  Robert  Fleming,  Hussey,  Bennet, 
and  Thomas  Burnet,  Goodwin,  and  Isaac  Watts.* 

This  mystical  view  appears  in  Jacob  Bcihme,  and 
through  him  it  passed  on  to  Philosophy,  for  it  is  absurd 
to  deny  that  this  surprising  man  has  exerted  an  influ- 
ence in  science  as  deep  almost  as  in  religion.  German 
Philosophy  seems  to  be  the  daughter  of  Mysticism. 

But  we  must  make  a  long  leap  from  Valentine 
Weigel  to  Immanuel  Kant,  who  has  had  an  influence  on 
Christology  that  will  never  pass  away.  It  came  as  a 
thunderbolt  out  of  the  sky,  to  strike  down  the  phan- 
toms of  doubt,  and  scatter  the  clouds  of  skepticism. 
Kant  admits  that  in  practice,  and  the  actual  life  of  man, 
the  moral  law  is  subordinate  to  sensuality;  this  subor- 
dination he  calls  radical  evil  Then  to  perfect  mankind, 
we  need  a  radical  restoration,  to  restore  the  principles 
to  their  true  order  from  which  they  have  been  inverted  ; 
this  restoration  is  possible  on  three  conditions.  1.  By 
the  idea  of  a  race  of  men  that  is  well  pleasing  to  God, 
in  which  each  man  would  feel  his  natural  destination 
and  perfectibility.  It  is  the  duty  of  each  to  rise  to  this, 
believe  it  attainable,  and  trust  its  power.  This  state 
may  not  be  attained  empirically,  but  by  embracing  the 
principle  well  pleasing  to  God,  and  all  the  faults  in 
manifesting  this  principle  vanish,  when  the  whole 
course  is  looked  at.     We  should  not  be  disturbed   by 

*  See,  who  will,  his  three  discourses  "  on  the  Glory  of  Christ  as 
God-man,"  (Lond.  1740,)  and  Goodwin's  book,  to  which  he  refers, 
"  Knowledge  of  God  the  Father  and  his  Son  J.  C."  See  also  the 
writinii's  of  Edward  Irving,  Cudwortli's  Sermon  before  the  House  of 
Parliament,  in  the  American  ed.  of  his  work.     Vol.  ii.  p.  549,  seq. 


dorner's  ciiristology.  391 

fear  lest  the  new  moral  disposition  be  transient,  for  the 
power  of  goodness  increases  with  the  exercise  of  it. 
The  past  sins  are  expiated  only  by  suflferirfg,  or  diminu- 
tion of  well-being-  in  the  next  stage  of  progress.  2.  The 
foundation  of  a  moral  commonu'callh*  —  without  this 
there  will  be  confusion.  This  is  possible  only  on  con- 
dition that  it  is  religious  also.  Thus  this  common- 
wealth is,  at  the  same  time,  a  church,  though  only  an 
ideal  one ;  for  it  can  rest  on  nothing  external,  but  only 
on  the  "unconditional  authority  of  Reason,  which  con- 
tains in  itself  the  moral  idea."  3.  This  ideal  Church, 
to  become  real,  must  take  a  siatittary  form^  for  it  is  an 
universal  tendency  of  man  to  demand  a  sensual  con- 
firmation of  the  truth  of  Reason,  and  this  renders  it 
necessary  to  take  some  outward  means  of  introducing 
the  true  rational  religion,  since  without  the  hypothesis 
of  a  revelation,  man  would  have  no  confidence  in  Rea- 
son, though  it  disclosed  the  same  truths  with  Revela- 
tion, because  it  is  so  difficult  to  convince  men  that  pure 
morality  is  the  only  service  of  God,  while  they  seek  to 
make  it  easier  by  some  superstitious  service  (After- 
dienst). 

On  these  notions  the  following  Christology  is  natu- 
rally constructed.  Man  needs  no  outward  aid  for  the 
purpose  of  reconciliation,  sanctification,  or  happiness; 
but  the  belief  in  an  outward  revelation  is  needed  for 
the  basis  of  the  moral  commonwealth.  Christianity 
can  allow  this,  as  it  has  a  pure  moral  spirit.  Here 
every  thing   turns  on  the    person  of    its   founder.     He 


*  It  is  a  saying  of  Pagan  Plato  in  the  Timasus,  "  We  shall  never 
have  perfect  men,  until  we  can  surround  them  with  perfect  circum- 
stances," an  idea  the  English  Socialists  are  attempting  to  carry  out  in 
a  very  one-sided  manner. 


392  dorner's  ciiristology. 

demands  perfect  virtue,  and  would  found  a  kingdom  of 
God  on  the  earth.  It  is  indifferent  to  practical  religion, 
whether  or  not  we  are  certain  of  his  historical  existence, 
for  historical  existence  adds  no  authority.  The  histori- 
cal is  necessary  only  to  give  us  an  idea  of  a  man  well 
pleasing  to  God,  which  we  can  only  understand  by  see- 
ing it  realized  in  a  man,  who  preserves  his  morality 
under  the  most  difficult  circumstances.  To  get  a  con- 
crete knowledge  of  supersensual  qualities,  such  as  the 
idea  of  the  good,  moral  actions  must  be  presented  to 
us  performed  in  a  human  manner.  This  is  only  needed 
to  awaken  and  purify  moral  emotions  that  live  in  us. 
The  historical  appearance  of  a  man  without  sin  is  pos- 
sible ;  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  consider  he  is  born 
supernaturally,  even  if  the  impossibility  of  the  latter  is 
not  absolutely  demonstrable.  But  since  the  archetype 
of  a  man  well  pleasing  to  God  lies  in  us  in  an  incom- 
prehensible manner,  what  need  have  we  of  further  in- 
comprehensibilities, since  the  exaltation  of  such  a  saint 
above  all  the  imperfections  of  human  nature  would 
only  offer  an  objection  to  his  being  a  model  for  us, — 
since  it  gives  him  not  an  achieved  but  an  innate  virtue, 
—  for  it  would  make  the  distance  between  him  and  us 
so  great,  that  we  should  find  in  him  no  proof  that  we 
could  ever  attain  that  ideal.  Even  if  the  great  teacher 
does  not  completely  correspond  to  the  idea,  he  may  yet 
speak  of  himself,  as  if  the  ideal  of  the  good  was  bodily 
and  truly  represented  in  him,  for  he  could  speak  of  what 
his  maxims  would  make  him.  He  must  derive  his 
whole  strength  from  reason.  The  value  of  his  revela- 
tion consists  only  in  leading  to  a  conscious,  voluntary 
morality,  in  the  way  of  authority.  When  this  is  done, 
the  statutary  scaffolding  luay  fall.  The  time  must 
come,  when  religion  shall  be  freed  from   all  statutes, 


dorner's  christology.  393 

which  rest  only  on  history,  and  pure  Reason  at  last 
reign,  and  God  be  all  in  all.  Wise  men  must  see  that 
belief  in  the  Son  of  God  is  only  belief  in  Tnan  himself; 
that  the  human  race,  so  far  as  it  is  moral,  is  the  well 
pleasing  Son  of  God.  This  idea  of  a  perfect  man 
does  not  proceed  from  us,  but  from  God,  so  we  say  that 
He  has  condescended  and  taken  human  nature  upon 
himself.  The  Christ  without  and  the  Christ  within  us 
are  not  two  principles,  but  the  same.  But  if  we  make 
a  belief  in  the  historical  manifestation  of  this  idea  of 
humanity  in  Christ  the  necessary  condition  of  salvation, 
then  we  have  two  principles,  an  empiric  and  a  rational 
one.  The  true  God-man  is  the  archetype  that  lies  in 
our  reason,  to  which  the  historical  manifestation  con- 
forms. 

The  system  has  excellences  and  defects.  By  exalt- 
ing the  idea  of  moral  goodness,  Kant  led  men  to  ac- 
knowledge an  absolute  spiritual  power,  showing  that 
this  is  the  common  ground  between  Philosophy  and 
Christianity,  and  with  this  begins  the  reconciliation  of 
the  two.*  He  recognized  the  Divine  as  something 
dwelling  in  man,  and  therefore  filled  up  the  chasm,  as 
it  were,  between  the  two  natures.  Again,  he  acknowl- 
edged no  authority,  so  long  as  it  was  merely  outward 
and  not  legitimated  in  the  soul,  for  he  had  felt  the 
slavery  incident  upon  making  the  historical  a  dogma. 
He  saw  the  mind  cannot  be  bound  by  any  thing  merely 
external,  for  that  has  value  only  so  far  as  it  contains 
the  idea  and  makes  it  historical.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  exalts  the  subjective  too  high,  and  does  not 
legitimate  the  internal  moral  law,  which  Dr.  Dorner 
thinks  requires  legitimating,  as  much  as  the  historical 

*  Leibnitz  made  the  attempt  to  effect  the  same  thing,  but  in  a  man- 
ner more  mechanical  and  unsatisfactory. 


394  dorner's  christology. 

manifestation.  His  foundation  therefore  is  unstable 
until  this  is  done.  Besides  he  is  not  consistent  with 
himself;  for  while  he  ascribes  absolute  power  to  this 
innate  ideal  of  a  perfect  man,  he  leaves  nothing  for  the 
historical  appearance  of  the  God-man.  He  makes  his 
statutary  form  useless,  if  not  injurious,  and  makes  a 
dualistic  antithesis  between  Reason  and  God.  Still 
more  is  it  inconsistent  with  Christianity,  for  it  makes 
morality  the  whole  of  religion  ;  it  cuts  off  all  connection 
between  the  divine  and  human  life,  by  denying  that  in- 
fluence comes  down  from  God  upon  man.  He  makes 
each  man  his  own  redeemer,  and  allows  no  maturity  of 
excellence,  but  only  a  growth  towards  it.  In  respect  to 
the  past,  present,  and  future,  it  leaves  men  no  comfort. 
in  their  extremest  need. 

We  pass  next  to  the  Christology  of  Schelling,  leap- 
ing over  such  thinkers  as  Rohr,  Wegscheider,  De  Wette, 
Hase,  Hamann,  Oettinger,  Franz  Baader,  Novalis, 
Jacob),  and  Fichte. 

The  divine  unity  is  always  actualizing  itself;  the 
One  is  constantly  passing  into  the  many ;  or  in  plain 
English,  God  is  eternally  creative.  God  necessarily 
reveals  himself  in  the  finite  ;  to  be  comprehensible  to 
us.  He  must  take  the  limitations  of  finite  existence. 
But  since  He  cannot  be  represented  in  any  finite  form, 
the  divine  life  is  portrayed  in  a  variety  of  individuals  ; 
in  a  copious  history,  each  portion  wMiercof  is  a  revela- 
tion of  a  particular  side  of  the  divine  life.  God  there- 
fore appears  in  historical  life  as  the  finite,  which  is  the 
necessary  form  of  the  revelation  of  Him.  The  finite 
is  God  in  his  development,  or  the  Son  of  God.  All 
history,  therefore,  has  a  higher  sense.  The  human  does 
not  exclude  the  divine.     Thus  the  idea  of  the  incarna- 


dorner's  christology.  395 

tion  of  God  is  a  principle  of  philosophy  ;  and  since  this 
is  the  essence  of  Christianity,  philosophy  is  reconciled 
with  it.  Nature  herself  points  forward  to  th^Son  of  God, 
and  has  in  him  its  final  cause.  Now  the  theologians 
consider  Christ  as  a  single  person  ;  but,  as  an  eternal 
idea  alone  can  be  made  a  dogma,  so  their  Christology  is 
untenable  as  a  dogma.  Now  the  incarnation  of  God 
is  from  eternity.  Christ  is  an  eternal  idea.  The  divinity 
of  Christianity  cannot  be  proved  in  an  empirical  way,  but 
only  by  contemplating  the  whole  of  history  as  a  divine 
act.  The  sacred  history  must  be  to  us  only  a  subjective 
Symbol,  not  an  objective  one,  as  such  things  were  to  the 
Greeks,  who  thereby  became  subordinate  to  the  finite, 
and  refused  to  see  the  infinite,  except  in  that  form.  But 
as  Christianity  goes  immediately  to  the  infinite,  so  the 
finite  becomes  only  an  allegory  of  the  infinite.  The  fun- 
damental idea  of  Christianity  is  eternal  and  universal, 
therefore  it  cannot  be  constructed  historically  without 
the  religious  construction  of  history.  This  idea  existed 
before  Christianity,  and  is  a  proof  of  its  necessity.  Its 
existence  is  a  prediction  of  Christianity  in  a  distant 
foreign  country.  The  man  Christ  is  the  climax  of  this 
incarnation,  and  also  the  beginning  of  it;  for  all  his 
followers  are  to  be  incarnations  of  God,  members  of 
the  same  body  to  which  he  is  the  head.  God  first  be- 
comes truly  objective  in  him,  for  before  him  none  has 
revealed  the  infinite  in  such  a  manner.  The  old  world 
is  the  natural  side  of  history.  A  new  era,  in  which  the 
infinite  world  preponderates,  could  only  be  brought  by 
the  truly  infinite  coming  into  the  finite,  not  to  deify  it, 
but  to  sacrifice  it  to  God,  and  thereby  effect  a  reconcilia- 
tion ;  that  is,  by  his  death  he  showed  that  the  Finite  is 
nothing ;  but  the  true  existence,  and  life  is  only  in  the 
Infinite.     The  eternal  Son  of  God  is  the  human  race 


396  dorner's  christology. 

created  out  of  the  substance  of  the  Father  of  all ;  ap- 
pearing as  a  suffering  divinity,  exposed  to  the  horrors  of 
time,  reaching  its  highest  point  in  Christ;  it  closes  the 
world  of  the  finite  and  discloses  that  of  the  infinite,  as 
the  sign  of  the  spirit.  With  this  conclusion,  the  myth- 
ological veils,  in  which  Christ,  as  the  only  God-man, 
has  been  arrayed,  must  fall  off.  The  ever-living  spirit 
will  clothe  Christianity  in  new  and  permanent  forms. 
Speculation,  not  limited  by  the  past,  but  comprehend- 
ing distinction,  as  it  stretches  far  on  into  time,  has  pre- 
pared for  the  regeneration  of  esoteric  Christianity,  and 
the  proclamation  of  the  absolute  gospel.  Viewed  in 
this  light,  Christianity  is  not  regarded  merely  as  doc- 
trine or  history,  but  as  a  progressive  divine  act ;  the  his- 
tory of  Christ  is  not  merely  an  empirical  and  single, 
but  an  eternal  history.  At  the  same  time  it  finds  its 
antitype  in  the  human  race.  Christianity,  therefore,  is 
not  merely  one  religious  constitution  among  others,  but 
THE  Religion;  the  true  mode  of  spiritual  existence; 
the  soul  of  history,  which  is  incorporated  in  the  human 
race,  to  organize  it  into  one  vast  body,  whose  head  is 
Christ.  Thus  he  would  make  us  all  brothers  of  Christ, 
and  show  that  the  incarnation  of  God  still  goes  on  to 
infinity,  in  the  birth  of  the  Son  of  God,  until  the  divine 
life  takes  to  itself  the  whole  human  race  ;  sanctifies 
and  penetrates  all  through  it,  and  recognizes  it  as  his 
body,  of  which  Christ  is  the  head  ;  as  his  temple, 
of  wliich  Christ  is  the  corner-stone.  We  shall  not 
dwell  upon  the  excellence  of  this  view,  nor  point  out 
its  defects.  The  few,  who  understand  the  mystical 
words  of  St.  John,  and  the  many,  who  do  not  under- 
stand them,  can  do  this  for  themselves. 

Our  remarks  are  already  so  far  extended,  that  we 


dorner's  christology.  397 

must  omit  the  Christology  of  Hegel,  though  this,  how- 
ever, we  do  with  the  less  reluctance,  as  the  last  word  of 
that  system  has  but  just  reached  us  ;  it  comes  with  the 
conclusion  of  Strauss's  work  on  Dogmatics.*  We 
regret  to  pass  over  the  views  of  Schleiermacher,  which 
have  had  so  deep  an  influence  in  Germany,  and  among 
many  of  the  more  studious  of  our  Trinitarian  brethren 
in  this  country.  To  most  of  our  own  denomination 
only  the  Lemnian  horrors  of  its  faint  echo  have  come. 
We  give  Dr.  Dorner's  conclusion  in  his  own  words. 
"  Christology  has  now  reached  a  field  as  full  of  antici- 
pations, as  it  is  of  decisions.  But  the  anxiety,  which 
here  takes  possession  of  us,  is  a  joyful  one,  and  bears 
in  itself  the  tranquil  and  certain  conviction,  that,  after 
a  long  night,  a  beautiful  dawn  is  nigh.  A  great  course 
has  been  run  through,  and  the  deep  presentiments  of 
the  greatest  minds  of  the  primitive  times  of  Christian- 
ity begin  to  find  their  scientific  realization.  After  long 
toil  of  the  human  mind,  the  time  has  at  last  come, 
when  a  rich  harvest  is  to  be  reaped  from  this  dogma, 
while  the  union,  already  hastening,  is  effected  between 
the  essential  elements  of  Christology,  which  seem  the 
most  hostile  to  each  other.  Previous  Christologies  have 
chiefly  presented  these  elements  in  their  separation  and 
opposition  to  one  another.  Now,  while  we  contem- 
plate them  together  in  their  living  unity,  which  verifies 
their  distinction  from  one  another,  we  see  their  histori- 
cal confirmation  and  necessity,  and  now,  as  Ethiopia 
and  Arabia,  according  to  the  prophet,  were  to  present 
their  homage  to  the  Lord,  so  must  the  middle  ages 
with  their  scholasticism,  and  modern  philosophy,  the 

*  Die  Christliche  Glaubenslehre,  etc.     Yon  Dr.  D.  F  Strauss.     2 
vols.  8vo.  1840,  1841.' 

34 


398  corner's  christology. 

whole  of  history,  —  as  well  of  the  ante-christian  relig- 
ions, as  that  of  the  Christian  dogma, —  assemble  about 
Ihe  One,  (the  Son  of  Man,)  that  they  may  lay  down 
their  best  gifts  before  him,  who  first  enables  them  to 
understand  themselves ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
confers  on  them  the  dignity  of  his  own  glorification, 
and  allows  them  to  contribute  to  it,  so  that  by  their  ser- 
vice, likewise,  his  character  shall  pass  into  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  human  race  with  an  increasing  bril- 
liancy." 

Now,  if  we  ask  what  are  the  merits  and  defects  of 
the  work  we  have  passed  over,  the  answer  is  easy.  It 
is  a  valuable  history  of  Christology ;  as  such,  it  is  rich 
with  instructions  and  suggestions.  A  special  history  of 
this  matter  was  much  needed.  That  this,  in  all  histori- 
cal respects,  answers  the  demands  of  the  times,  we  are 
not  competent  to  decide.  However,  if  it  be  imperfect 
as  a  history,  it  has  yet  great  historical  merits.  Its  chief 
defects  are  of  another  kind.  Its  main  idea  is  this,  that 
the  true  Chrut  is  perfect  God  and  perfect  man,  and  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  the  true  Christ.  Now  he  makes 
no  attempt  to  prove  either  point ;  yet  he  was  bound,  in 
the  first  instance,  as  a  philosopher,  to  prove  his  proposi- 
tion; in  the  second,  as  an  historian  to  verifi/  his  fact. 
He  attempts  neither.  He  has  shown  neither  the  eternal 
necessity,  nor  the  actual  existence  of  a  God-man.  Nay, 
he  admits  that  only  two  writers  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, ever  represent  Jesus  as  the  God-man.  His  ad- 
mission is  fatal  to  his  fact.  He  gives  us  the  history  of 
a  dogma  of  the  church  ;  but  does  not  show  it  has  any 
foundation  to  rest  on. 

We  must  apply  to  this  book  the  words  of  Leibnitz, 
in  his  letter  to  Burnet  on  the  manner  of  establishing  the 


dorner's  cheistologt.  399 

Christian  religion.*  "  I  have  often  remarked,  as  well  in 
philosophy  as  theology,  and  even  in  medicine,  jurispru- 
dence, and  history,  that  we  have  many  good  books  and 
good  thoughts  scattered  about  here  and  there,  but  that 
we  scarce  ever  come  to  establishments.  I  caU  it  an 
establishment,  when  at  least  certain  points  are  deter- 
mined and  fixed  for  ever ;  when  certain  theses  are  put 
beyond  dispute,  and  thus  ground  is  gained  where  some- 
thing may  be  built.  It  is  properly  the  method  of  mathe- 
maticians, who  separate  the  certain  from  the  uncertain, 
the  knoirn  from  the  nnknown.  In  other  departments 
it  is  rarely  followed,  because  we  love  to  tiatter  the  ears 
by  fine  words,  which  make  an  agreeable  mingling  of 
the  certain  and  the  uncertain.  But  it  is  a  very  transient 
benefit  that  is  thus  conferred  ;  like  music  and  the  opera, 
which  leave  scarce  any  trace  in  the  mind,  and  give  us 
nothing  to  repose  on  ;  so  we  are  always  turning  round 
and  round,  treating  the  same  questions,  in  the  same 
way,  which  is  problematic,  and  subject  to  a  thousand 
exceptions."  Somebody  once  led  M.  Casaubon  the  elder 
into  a  hall  of  the  Sorbonne,  and  told  him.  ••  The  divines 
have  disputed  here  for  more  than  three  hundred  years  I 
He  answered.  And  what  have  they  decided  ?  It  is  ex- 
actly what  happens  to  us  in  most  of  our  studies.''  .  .  . 
"  I  am  confident  that  if  we  wiU  but  use  the  abilities 
wherewith  God  and  nature  have  furnished  Us,  we  can  re- 
move many  of  the  evils  which  now  oppress  mankind,  can 
establish  the  truth  of  religion,  and  put  an  end  to  many 
controversies  which  divide  men,  and  cause  so  much  evil 
to  the  human  race,  if  we  are  Avilling  to  think  consecu- 
tively, and  proceed  as  we  ought.  ...  I  would  proceed 
in   this   way,   and    distinguish   propositions   into   two 

*  0pp.  od.  Dutons.,  vol.  vi.  p.  2.13,  seq. 


400  dorner's  christology. 

classes  :  1.  what  conld  be  ahsolutehj  demonstrated  by  a 
metaphysical  necessity,  and  in  an  incontestable  way  : 
2.  what  could  be  demonstrated  morally  ;  that  is,  in  a 
way  which  gives  what  is  called  moral  certainty,  as  we 
know  there  is  a  China  and  a  Peru,  though  we  have  never 
seen  them.  .  .  .  Theological  truths  and  deductions  there- 
from are  also  of  two  kinds.  The  first  rest  on  defini- 
tions, axioms,  and  theorems,  derived  from  true  philoso- 
phy and  natural  theology ;  the  second  rest  in  part  on 
history  and  events,  and  in  part  on  the  interpretation  of 
texts,  on  the  genuineness  and  divinity  of  our  sacred 
books,  and  even  on  ecclesiastical  antiquity ;  in  a  word, 
on  the  sense  of  the  texts."  And  again  :  *  "  "We  must 
demonstrate  rigorously  the  truth  of  natural  religion,  that 
is,  the  existence  of  a  Being  supremely  powerful  and 
wise,  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  These  two 
points  solidly  fixed,  there  is  but  one  step  more  to  take, — 
to  show,  on  the  one  hand,  that  God  could  never  have  left 
man  without  a  true  religion,  and  on  the  other,  that  no 
known  religion  can  compare  with  the  Christian.  The 
necessity  of  embracing  it  is  a  consequence  of  these  two 
plain  truths.  However,  that  the  victory  may  be  still 
more  complete,  and  the  mouth  of  impiety  be  shut  forever, 
I  cannot  forbear  hoping,  that  some  man,  skilled  in  his- 
tory, the  tongues,  and  philosophy,  in  a  word,  filled  with 
all  sorts  of  erudition,  will  exhibit  all  the  harmony  and 
beauty  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  scatter  forever  the 
countless  objections  which  may  be  brought  against  its 
dogmas,  its  books,  and  its  history." 

*  Epistola  II.  ad  Spizeliuui.     0pp.  v.  p.  344. 


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